


Hearts in the Byline

by LuckyBishop



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Kink Negotiation, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Negligent Relationship, Not in the main pairing, Praise Kink, Semi-Slow Burn, Stiles Stilinski Doesn't Know About Werewolves, little stiles stilinski, sexual ageplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28422891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyBishop/pseuds/LuckyBishop
Summary: Stiles doesn't know when things started going wrong in his relationship - but he does know that they are indeed wrong, and it's time for him to leave. But leaving his long-term partner behind and starting anew may be more difficult than it seems.Enter Stiles' charming new neighbor, bigshot lawyer Peter Hale. At first, Stiles can't stand the man - he's pushy, and arrogant, and he makes Stiles miss all the good parts of his relationship with David. Will Stiles allow himself be vulnerable again? And what exactly is Peter hiding behind all that smarm?
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 106
Kudos: 303





	1. My Love Should Be Celebrated

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I definitely thought I'd be posting something closer to the end of October, but it just didn't happen. But I've been listening to a lot of music recently and the idea for this fic was born. I don't have it completely written out yet, but it's coming along. I promise it is endgame Peter/Stiles, though it will probably feel pretty slow burn. 
> 
> As always, all feedback is appreciated! Especially if you see something missing, just let me know and I'll do my best to address it quickly. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Title taken from “Tolerate It” by Taylor Swift on _evermore _. Most chapter titles will also be from _evermore_ but will all be credited individually.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Tolerate It" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.

Stiles leaned forward from his perch on the stairs, craning his neck to check the digital clock on the oven for what felt like the thousandth time that night. It had barely been ten minutes since he’d last looked, but David was already over two hours late. With a sigh, Stiles stood and straightened the nice clothes he’d put on, heading to the dining room to clean up the dinner he’d prepared and served. It was cold at this point: perfectly seared steaks, creamy mashed potatoes, and fresh asparagus all going to waste. Dessert was still in the fridge, so at least it wouldn’t have to be pitched, but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to be excited by that. Not on what should’ve been such a happy day for him.

It figured, though, that Stiles hadn’t had a lot of happy days recently, so he wasn’t sure why he’d expected today to be different. He’d tried calling the office - hoping that if he could just talk to David, he’d be able to convince him to come home on time, or even leave early, but the best he’d been able to do was leave a message with his secretary.

He started bringing the full plates back to the kitchen, trying to salvage what he could. It would reheat, sure, but it wouldn’t be as good as it would’ve been if they’d been able to share a warm meal together. As it was, Stiles could have eaten, but he found himself with no appetite. He tried not to let his mind wander - David was a busy man, he could truly just be buried in his work. But he knew at the same time that if something else were going on - well, it would hardly be David’s first indiscretion. He scrubbed the plate he was holding just a bit harder at the thought.

Not for the first time, Stiles started to think about leaving David. They’d been together for three years as of tonight, so part of him felt guilty having the thought at all. The rest of him thought about how he’d been grinning and bearing it for almost half of their relationship. He loved David - loved the way he treated him when they _were_ actually spending time together, at least. But he’d always felt like he was the one of the two of them who’d always been more dedicated. In their honeymoon phase it hadn’t mattered - David was loving and attentive, he’d supported Stiles while he was really trying to kickstart his career, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was love.

Now, it seemed like Stiles was falling short in all these ways he hadn’t known were expectations that David had of him. He wanted too much - too much space in their home, too much of David’s time, too much affection from the man who used to give it so freely. Suddenly, Stiles wasn’t refined enough - David didn’t want him around his friends or his coworkers, saying that Stiles would be bored, or worse, embarrass him. Stiles’ youth, his passion for his work, his emotional needs - all things that had initially drawn them together became an issue for David.

Fundamentally, Stiles couldn’t be himself around David anymore. That wasn’t the person that his long-term partner wanted to be around. But he also couldn’t bring himself to fully change - he’d tried desperately sometimes, hosting dinner parties, trying to learn about David’s job, reading up about sports so he could talk to David’s friends. But it was never enough, and at some point Stiles really had to admit that he wasn’t the problem. He wasn’t perfect, sure, but he was trying.

And David wasn’t, anymore. He wasn’t trying to be a good partner (let alone the last time he’d been a good partner in more intimate ways, but Stiles tried not to think about that). He was snapping the lid on the last tupperware container, a small stack of them on the counter, when he heard the front door open. Stiles didn’t turn, hands clenching against the plastic as he tried to breathe deeply. He wanted to stay collected - there was nothing worse than crying in front of David. He’d just immediately dismiss Stiles as being overly emotional, weak.

There was a pause, as if David was expecting Stiles to greet him at the door as he usually did. The door shut in short order, though, David following his nose to the kitchen where he found Stiles moving the perilously stacked tupperware into the refrigerator. 

“I ate at the office, lost track of time,” he said in lieu of welcome, and without apology. It just raised the rage building inside Stiles’ chest.

“Well, our anniversary dinner will be there for you tomorrow.” With that, Stiles closed the refrigerator door, ringing out like an accusation in the silence. He took a moment, holding his composure before he turned to face David.

It seemed that turning had been a mistake. It may not have been incredibly obvious to just anyone, but Stiles was the son of a sheriff. His eyes caught how David was slightly disheveled, lips swollen and the barest smudge of lipstick on his shirt collar. Stiles thought he’d be angrier but he just felt - defeated. He physically sagged, the fight leaving him. At least they weren’t married. The thought was hollow, sad, but Stiles had it nonetheless. They had separate accounts, truly separate lives if he was honest about it. Once Stiles was packed - he could be gone. That would be all it would take.

David seemed at a loss for a moment, a hint of vulnerability and the man Stiles loved peeking through.It didn’t last long, though, hard mask settling back over his features. “Well, it couldn’t be helped. I know you understand.”

“Sure,” Stiles responded, “so was it good, anyway?”

David had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Nothing good about working overtime, Stiles, don’t be silly.”  
“You know that’s not what I meant, David. At least don’t treat me like I’m stupid. I’m not trying to pick a fight - I’m exhausted, and I’d just like to go to bed. I guess there’s just a part of me that wants to know if it’s really worth it.”

David dropped the act. “Worth what, exactly?”

Stiles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll shower in the guest bedroom.”

He turned before David responded, heading up the stairs and to the guest bathroom. His things were mostly over there anyway - it was a result of David complaining about Stiles taking too much space. Stiles thought for a moment he might cry in the shower, but he found his earlier words were true - he was exhausted. He simply got efficiently clean, hung his towels, and put on his pajamas. He brushed his teeth mechanically and padded to their shared bedroom. David was already laying in bed, back turned from Stiles as he faced the window. Stiles took a deep breath and climbed in bed, doing the same as he browsed his phone idly.

Night wasn’t the time for big decisions, Stiles knew, but the thought was cemented in his mind. He was going to leave David - starting tomorrow. He plugged in his phone, checking his alarm was set, and closed his eyes without a goodnight. There was nothing but silence from the other side of the bed, and he felt himself drift into a heavy sleep quickly. 

When Stiles’ alarm woke him the next morning, he sat up with a groan to shut it off. David was laying next to him, eyes closed and breathing even. Stiles thought maybe the anger would be back, but it wasn’t. It was that same sense of absolute defeat he’d felt the night before. 

Stiles remembered when he would’ve been eager to spend all day on a Saturday at home and in bed with David. As it was, he stood and dressed himself quickly. He texted his best friend, Scott McCall, who worked as a veterinarian, and asked to meet him for coffee. The sloppy text he received in affirmation brought a half-hearted smile to his face. Scott had never quite gotten the hang of texting, and Stiles would normally mock him for it, but today he just allowed himself to enjoy the comfort of the known.

He grabbed his wallet and keys, checking to make sure his phone was in his pocket, and closed the front door behind him. He couldn’t have told anyone what happened on his drive, wrapped up in thoughts and half-cocked plans. This was why he needed Scott - someone very down-to-earth - to help him sort things out. Besides, this was definitely the type of life change that required support from friends.

Stiles parked his car, the baby-blue Jeep that had been his mother’s always sticking out in a parking lot, not that he would ever get rid of it. He saw Scott’s motorbike parked closer to the door, realizing that he’d beaten Stiles to the coffeeshop. Stiles opened the door, not seeking out his friend yet, but placing his order for a simple vanilla latte and paying, turning to search for Scott once he was at the end of the counter waiting for his drink.

His eyes found Scott parked at a small table in the corner, face practically planted in his coffee, which made Stiles smile again. Scott had never been a morning person, but he’d also always had Stiles’ back, no matter the hour. Stiles was infinitely grateful for it in this particular moment.

He picked up his drink and made his way across the small shop, settling into the cozy chair on the other side of the table from Scott, which made the other man look up.

Scott arched an eyebrow immediately. “You look like shit, bro.”

Trust Scott to give it to him straight. Stiles heaved out a long-suffering sigh anyway, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess we can cut right to the chase. David missed our anniversary dinner last night. Because he was cheating on me again. And - I think I’m finally going to leave him.”

Stiles had paused between each sentence, feeling like the admissions were heavy weights he had to heave up and drop on the table between him and his friend.

Scott’s eyes were wide, and sad, and made Stiles want to look away. Still, it was a testament to the emotional growth his friend had gone through that he swallowed his apologies and his anger and simply replied, “What do you need?”

“A plan,” Stiles blurted out, almost immediately, “I need to make a plan, and execute it, and I’ll probably need your help for both parts of that. We’re already so separate - it shouldn’t take much besides me moving out. I just need to find a place to live, pack everything that’s mine, and go. And tell David, I guess, but that should be the easiest part of this whole thing.”

“I don’t even hate him, Scott. I don’t have the energy or the anger for it. I just want to go.” Stiles felt his voice start to tremble on that last phrase, looking back up at Scott as tears started to brim in his eyes. He wiped them quickly, breathing deeply again.

Scott reached across the table and took Stiles’ hand in his own. “Well, then you’re going. We can look for apartments for you today. Maybe something close to your studio? Sure, we don’t need people finding out who Mischief is, but maybe you could make your commute shorter. Plus, you’d be closer to me and Ally anyway.”

This was exactly what Stiles had needed from his best friend. “That’s definitely the place to start. Thanks, Scotty.”

Scott beamed at him. “You know I’ve always got your back, bro. You just let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll go. We can start looking on our phones now, though. You’ll especially want to be looking for a place that has an immediate vacancy. Sure, things may still take a little time to settle, but I think it’s best we get you out while you’re sure about it.”

Stiles simply nodded in response, knowing that Scott was right and if he convinced himself to stay with David, to keep trying, maybe he’d never leave. And that thought was unbearable - he couldn’t settle for the entirety of his life. He deserved to be happy - even though he knew it would take a lot of time and work to get there. He didn’t have to think about that part of things yet - he just had to take the first step and actually leave David.

So he pulled out his phone, following Scott’s example, and started looking for places for rent in the area. There were a few suitable candidates, and most of the offices seemed to have early Saturday hours. He bookmarked the few he was interested in, and compared results with Scott, the two of them having about five total places in common.

“Meet you at the studio, then we can check out these five?”

“That’s perfect. You sure I can hijack your Saturday, Scott?”

His floppy-haired friend waved his hand in a dismissive motion. “Of course. I meant it when I said I’d always have your back. C’mon, let’s go find you a new place.”

Stiles smiled at the way that Scott made it sound like a positive adventure, rather than the devastating end of his long-term relationship. Scott’s relentless positivity and optimism was a great counter to Stiles’ sometimes biting sarcasm and pessimism. It was just another thing that had drawn the pair together since they were kids.

“I should probably call my dad, too. That can wait though, I should find a place and follow through on it first. That way he can’t be too mad at me for it, either.”

Scott frowned as he stood. “Stiles, he won’t be mad at you. He’ll be sad, but he’ll be proud you’re putting yourself first. It’s not an easy thing to do. Besides, you know my mom would bring him around anyway. She adores you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Stiles followed suit and stood, grabbing both of their mugs and placing them in the bin to be washed before heading out the door and straight to the Jeep. He drove to his studio on autopilot, opening the garage remotely so he and Scott could both park and close the door. It was early, and only a select few people knew where his studio was, but it was always best to keep a low profile.

Sometimes Stiles still couldn’t believe the success he’d achieved as an artist. He’d been scoffed at, laughed at, ridiculed for his dream. But never by his dad, or Scott, or Scott’s mom - the people who mattered most in the world to him - so he’d had the support he needed to launch his career. Mischief was born from his youth; the nickname his mother had given him when he couldn’t say his unpronounceable first name of Mieczyslaw. It was easier to create the persona of a recluse, and do the work that he enjoyed from the shadows. Sure, he’d write and maintain a social media presence to interact with fans and buyers alike, but Stiles was hesitant to reveal himself. Celebrity, however minor, wasn’t something that appealed to him.

Stiles shook off the thoughts of his career and focused on the task at hand as Scott parked, then they both exited the garage, Stiles using the keypad to bring the door down and lock it up. Scott had his phone out quickly, showing Stiles one of the mutual listings they’d highlighted. 

“This one’s closest - want to see if they’ll fit us in for a tour?”

“Let’s do it,” Stiles nodded, portraying a confidence he didn’t quite feel. He followed Scott’s lead as they toured a few places, one or two not having a free staff member to take them. The last building they stopped at was about a twenty minute walk from the studio, something that was incredibly manageable for someone in as good as shape as Stiles, and with the consistently mild California weather he wouldn’t have to worry much, though he’d always have the Jeep as a backup. 

There was something about the tall building that drew Stiles to it, and the impressive security just to get into the lobby and office didn’t hurt at all. The woman who showed them around was perky and polite, as he’d expected from someone in her profession, and she seemed eager to show Stiles around the spacious two-bedroom apartment that was already vacant. It was beautiful, all open spaces and big windows and wonderful hardwood floors. Stiles was in love with it practically from the moment they’d walked inside, and Scott could tell his friend was content.

Still, he allowed the agent to do her job and show them around, his pleasure with the space only increasing as he saw the gorgeous shower and tub and incredibly modern kitchen. 

“So, what do you think?” she turned her smile on Stiles, who returned it genuinely in kind.

“It’s perfect,” he said, turning to Scott who nodded, “and I’d be happy to move in as soon as I really can.”

“Of course. If you’ll follow me back to the office, we can get you an application to fill out. If you can provide the documentation and requested information, we should be able to turn things around fairly quickly for you.”

Stiles was relieved, and he was sure it showed on his face. The time would allow him to pack up his things and to actually tell David he was leaving. He didn’t have any worries about the application, though, he’d never done anything that would ding him in a background check, and his financial situation was more than secure enough to guarantee the rent.

The paperwork was completed quickly, the agent promising they’d call Stiles as soon as they had more information for him. He nodded in thanks, shook her hand, and he and Scott took their leave, heading back to the studio. 

Stiles whipped them up a light lunch, and the pair brainstormed on the best way to transport Stiles’ belongings to his new place. There were plenty of things he’d just have to buy new, but the idea didn’t bother Stiles. He was okay not keeping things that he’d shared - like their bed - with David. Scott helpfully found him a checklist for the basics, and Stiles was relieved to know that a few trips with the Jeep would likely be enough to move everything he’d be keeping. He could get a few of the other bigger pieces delivered straight to the new address.

“Thanks for all your help, man. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you help me unpack and set up when the time comes, too? I’d appreciate it and I’ll feed and pay you.”

Scott nudged his shoulder. “Of course I will. And you know food will be payment enough.”

Then, Scott faced him more head-on, and Stiles braced himself for whatever it was his best friend was about to say. “I’m proud of you for doing this, Stiles. I’m sorry I never realized how bad things were, but I’m so glad that you’re taking care of yourself. I hope you know that we’re here for you through this, and I would rather do this a hundred times over than see you stay in an unhappy relationship.”

“Hopefully it won’t be a hundred times over, but I appreciate the sentiment, Scotty. Now shoo, I’m sure Ally’s missing you and I have packing and dumping to do.”

Scott snorted at Stiles’ phrasing of his situation, but grabbed him into a big bear hug before taking his leave. 

Stiles stayed behind in the studio for a bit, collecting himself. Scott had picked him up like a whirlwind, and it had been good and effective for what he’d needed. But now he had the reality of the situation to face, and it was still a heavy weight on his shoulders. He glanced over to the canvas where David’s anniversary present stood, the portrait staring him in the eyes. 

Though he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing or not, he picked it up and brought the painting with him back to their shared house, figuring it could stay here and at least he wouldn’t have it distracting him from his work any longer. Stiles was a bit surprised to see David’s car still in the driveway, figuring he would’ve fucked off to do whatever it was he wanted to, but glad that he at least wouldn’t have to wait for the confrontation.

He brought the painting with him inside, listening to the soft music coming from David’s study to realize where he’d find the other man. Stiles knocked on the door like a hesitant stranger, entering at David’s gruff, “Come in.”

Stiles took a deep breath, steeled himself, and did just that. David barely looked up from the book he was reading. “You were gone awfully quick today.”

“Well, I had a lot of ground to cover. It’s been a while since I’ve had to plan a move, you know.”

Stiles waited for the meaning of his words to sink in, David bookmarking his page before finally looking Stiles in the eye and raising an eyebrow.  
He handed the canvas over to the clearly surprised man, speaking clearly, “Happy anniversary. I’m leaving you, David.”

It gutted Stiles further that David barely appeared to react, before laughing mockingly. “Really, now?”

That made Stiles’ blood boil, his anger flooding back. “Yes, really. You don’t love me, I’m tired of just enduring it, and I’m moving out. Might take a few days, but I figured I’d let you know instead of just disappearing with my things. Tell people whatever it is you’d like, but the truth that we both know is that you haven’t cared about this in a while. So go ahead and laugh at me, think whatever you’d like of me, but I’ll be gone as soon as I can. Hopefully by next weekend.”

The amusement dropped off of David’s face. “Well, then. It’s a shame to have wasted everything I’ve invested in you, but clearly you’re just as ungrateful as I’ve always assumed. Best of luck finding someone else who will take care of you, _baby boy_ ,” he said, the last words in a biting mockery of the affection he used to show Stiles.

“I can take care of myself,” Stiles stated, calmly, before turning and walking out of the room. He went straight to their bedroom, figuring it would be best to get his things out of there first. He grabbed a suitcase, packing his clothes in tightly. It took a few bags, but he dragged them over to the spare bedroom as soon as he’d finished. There were a few personal touches in the room that he picked up as well, starting a few spare boxes.

The next few days were quiet and surreal. Stiles didn’t speak a word to David, despite still being in the house with him. He’d gotten the call on Tuesday that he was approved, and as soon as he stopped by to sign the lease, he’d be free to move in starting that Friday. 

The week seemed to pass in a blur as Stiles finished packing up his belongings and ordering what he needed new. First thing on Friday morning, he woke up at the crack of dawn, dressing himself quietly and gathering his spare toiletries. He came back to the bedroom as David was waking to prepare for work, only to hand him his keys to the house and mailbox.

“Goodbye, David,” Stiles said, walking out to the Jeep that he’d packed the previous night. He drove over to his new building, Scott leaning against his bike and looking sleepy, but smiling when he saw Stiles.

It was a grueling day of lugging boxes up and unpacking around the furniture he’d had delivered, but he was grateful for Scott’s constant companionship. He fed him as promised and the two of them enjoyed a beer and a movie before Scott hugged Stiles tightly and took his leave. Stiles was ready to collapse into bed after his shower when a knock rapped on his door. He groaned, but stood and shuffled out to it. 

“Did you forget something, Scotty?” he called out, yawning and wiping the back of his hands against his eyes. 

Stiles opened the door to see an unfairly attractive, muscled man in a tight v-neck, smiling in a way that looked more like a smirk, who was definitely _not_ Scott. He looked at Stiles in a way that could only be called appraising, and Stiles fought the urge to cross his arms across his chest. The man made him feel exposed with a single look - it was a lot with how raw he was still feeling. 

“Hi,” the man said, stretching his hand out to shake Stiles’ own, “I’m Peter.”


	2. I Haven't Met the New Me Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Happiness" by Taylor Swift on _evermore _.__
> 
> __Thank you all so much for the support you've showed so far! It means the world to me! Things are getting busy with work and my new semester of grad school, but I've written a little bit ahead, and I'm hoping to regularly update this fic once a week for as long as I can. <3_ _

Stiles, still caught off-guard, at least remembered himself enough to grasp Peter’s hand in his own and give it a quick shake. “I’m Stiles.”

Peter’s grin was sharp, and he cocked his head a bit at Stiles’ reply. “Certainly an unusual name. In any case, I just wanted to come over and properly introduce myself. I’m your neighbor over in 3B,” he continued, gesturing toward his own front door down the hall from Stiles.”

“If you ever find yourself in need of anything at all - a cup of sugar, or anything else - you just come let me know.” The innuendo in his words was heavy, and while Stiles may have found the charm flattering when he was younger, it rubbed him the wrong way at the time.

So he put a bored expression on his face, replying, “That’s very nice of you, Peter. I’ll be sure to stop by if anything comes up.”

A brief flicker of what Stiles thought may have been disbelief passed on Peter’s face, but he settled back into that smile quickly. “Wonderful. Well, I’m sure you had a long day moving. I’ll let you go. Besides, I’m sure we’ll be seeing much more of each other. Nice meeting you, Stiles.”

“Thanks, and same to you, Peter,” Stiles responded, stepping back inside and closing the door, resolute that he will _not_ be seeing much more of Peter, and wiping the encounter from his mind as he goes to crash in his new bedroom.

It had been a long time since he and David had been intimate, or so much as cuddled, but Stiles still found himself almost lonely in bed by himself. He reached to the other side of the bed and took a big, brown teddy bear into his arms, wrapping it close to his chest. It didn’t replace the warmth of another body next to his, but it was still a comforting touch, and he found himself quickly drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Stiles woke groggy and a bit disoriented. It was always strange to sleep in a new place, and this was no exception. He yawned and stretched, sitting up but staying tucked under the covers in bed. He unplugged his phone from the charger next to him and smiled when he saw a text from Scott asking how he’d settled in. Stiles replied quickly, still incredibly grateful for his friend’s help and support, then switched over to his contacts and prepared to call his dad.

He figured Scott was right, he wouldn’t be mad, but Stiles was feeling pretty fragile, so he was a bit nervous that his dad wouldn’t be happy with the decisions he’d made, especially since he hadn’t told the older man anything yet. Still, Stiles didn’t hesitate long at all before hitting ‘call’ and placing the phone on speaker, resting his head back against the headboard. 

“Hey, kiddo! It’s been a while. Figured it was time to give your old man a call, huh?”

Stiles grimaced a bit at the reminder that it had been a while since he’d called his dad, and he wasn’t exactly calling with great news. “Hey pops. It’s good to hear your voice, I was getting worried I’d forget what it sounded like when you ragged on me.”

John Stilinski let out a chuckle, the familiar sound warming Stiles. After losing his mom at such a young age, it would’ve been easy for him to lose his dad as well, but John had held him tight and made sure Stiles knew he wasn’t alone. Another person he’d be grateful to for the rest of his life.

“So, I got a new place, downtown. It’s really close to the studio, so I think that’ll be nice.” 

Stiles knew the face that he’d moved would stick out to his dad, and that he’d have to tell him the full truth anyway, but he wanted his dad to be the one to ask about it. Somehow, that felt easier than bringing it up himself. And his dad didn’t disappoint.

His tone turned questioning, but with a hint of steel, as he asked, “Anything else you want to tell me, kid? Like why you moved all of a sudden without telling anyone?”

“Well, I told Scott.”

“Stiles - “

“I left David.”

Stiles blurted out the words, and they sat there, heavy in the silence between father and son. The pause stretched on for a moment, before John spoke again, this time in what Stiles had always dubbed his ‘I’m-the-sheriff-and-I-mean-business’ voice.

“Are you calling to talk to me in a professional capacity? Because if he’s hurt you, you’d need to talk to one of my deputies. It’d be a conflict of interest, plus I’d have a real hard time restraining myself.”

Stiles was quick to interject, “No! No, dad, nothing like that. He’s been cheating on me likely for the better part of two years, and I’ve known about it, but I realized that I was compromising and compromising to try to keep him happy, and we both still seemed miserable. It was just time to end things.”

“I can’t believe this,” John said, and Stiles felt himself freeze up, pressure tight in his chest. “You’re telling me you knew he was unfaithful and you just now decided to leave? God, kid, I’m so sorry. But I’m proud of you, you know. It’s never an easy thing to do.”

The worry in his dad’s voice helped to calm the panic that had been building in Stiles, and he was reassured when his dad reiterated the same sentiment Scott had expressed about being proud of him. Sure, nobody could tell him if he’d made the right decision or not, but it helped to have such strong support backing him.

Stiles must have been silent for too long, because his dad spoke with renewed worry, “Stiles? Son, are you still there? I know it’s difficult, I know that this must hurt, but you’re going to be okay.”

“I’m still here,” Stiles choked out, feeling remarkably like he may start crying. Sure, he knew that Scott was right and his dad would love him no matter what, but it was different to hear it directly from the man himself. “And it does hurt, and it will for a while, but I think I’ll be better for it.”

Stiles heard his dad let out a relieved sigh, and he smiled weakly at the thought that he could practically see it in his head. Some things never changed - a thought that could be both so warm and comforting, and terrifying all at once. David was never going to change; that’s why Stiles had to leave. But Stiles had changed, or tried to, to keep them together. The effort just wasn’t there, and that hurt. Even though he knew it was just his overall sad demeanor affecting his thoughts, he couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault somehow. Like he wasn’t good enough for David to work for.

“You will be,” his dad’s strong voice confirmed, breaking Stiles from his reverie, “And we’ll be here for you until you are.”

“Thanks, pops.”

The sheriff voice was back. “Now tell me about this new place of yours.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Great building security, close enough to the studio that I can walk, covered parking for the Jeep, and it’s a two-bedroom so I can set up an office for all the administrative stuff instead of trekking to the studio when I don’t need to.”

John hemmed and hawed about it for a moment, wanting to know more about the management company, and how sure was Stiles _really_ about the building security, but he ultimately left it with a, “Just promise me you’ll be safe and that I can come visit soon.”

“Of course you can come visit, and I’ll be safe. You taught me how to take care of myself, dad.”

“That I did, kiddo, that I did. Well, next time don’t wait so long to call, and you let me or Scott or Melissa know if you need anything at all, you hear? Don’t just lock yourself up and overwork yourself to ignore everything else going on with you.”

Stiles, knowing that was exactly what he planned to do, swallowed guiltily and promised,”I won’t, dad. I’ll be sure to reach out, and you can come for dinner in a few weeks once I have everything set up. I love you.”

“Love you too, kid. Take care of yourself,” John reminded one more time, before hanging up.

Stiles exhaled heavily, slinking down until he was laying in bed once again, staring at the ceiling. He allowed himself a few precious moments to just breathe, before throwing the covers off and standing to get dressed. He shuffled out to his new kitchen, where most of his things were still in boxes, and started the coffee-maker that he had been sure to unpack first. Coffee was always going to be important in the mornings, food be damned.

He spent the day in the apartment, unpacking the boxes he had left over, and looking around to see what he might’ve missed and would still need to order. Stiles probably took too much time browsing the internet, and ended up ordering more than he needed, but if there was ever a time for him to be indulgent, it was now. Once he realized how long it had been, he stood and stretched, before deciding to break down the cardboard littering his apartment and take it down to the dumpster/recycling behind the building. 

It took a good bit of time, but Stiles took his stack (which he could barely see over the top of) and headed out the door after patting his pockets to make sure he had his phone and keys. The last thing he needed was to lock himself out on his first full day of living there. He allowed his front door to close behind him, then headed toward the stairwell. 

Stiles was most of the way there before he heard a vaguely familiar voice call out, “Woah there!” and he saw a bulky form take a step to the side from his path. 

Peter approached him with a smile. “Hello, Stiles. I hope you had a good first night in the building. Need a hand?”

“I did, thanks, and I’m alright - oh, okay, you’re already taking the stack.” Peter had a generous half of the boxes in his hand before Stiles could even finish his dismissal. 

I guess this is a group activity, now, Stiles thought, before figuring he should just accept the help and returning Peter’s earlier smile. 

“Thanks, Peter, I appreciate the help,” Stiles finally said, as they exited the building to drop the boxes off. The other man gave him another one of those charming (and still slightly sleazy) smiles as they turned to head back inside.

“It’s no bother at all. And if you need any help getting settled, well, you know where to find me.”

The generous offer had Stiles a bit on edge. There was something about the way that Peter spoke and carried himself that just bothered him. He was pure confidence, arrogance, and even though his words and actions were kind, Stiles wanted little to do with him. Ignoring that Peter was entirely Stiles’ type was surprisingly easy given his rather fragile emotional state. Still, he nodded and thanked Peter as was polite, and they climbed the stairs back up to their floor in relatively companionable silence.

Peter waved and smiled at him flirtatiously, giving Stiles another full-body once-over before unlocking his own apartment’s door and entering as Stiles did the same. The eyes roving over him would normally be welcome, but Stiles just found it made him uncomfortable. He hoped that it was just him being new to the area, and that Peter would back off on his own. Stiles didn’t really want to get into any sort of confrontation with anyone - but especially not his next-door neighbor. 

Stiles tried to put all thoughts of Peter out of his head, and stood right inside his front door, hands on his hips as he surveyed the space. Things were looking good, and he headed toward the second bedroom that he intended to use as his office, deciding that he should at least take a look at his work calendar and emails. While his whole life was being disrupted, this was the one area where he would be committed to keeping things calm and consistent.

He noticed that there were a few commissions coming up on deadline that he should really put a few hours into, and made a plan to head to the studio the next day and get work done. He’d been distracted a bit making David’s portrait for their anniversary - and he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. Stiles could focus on his commissions, and truly settling into his apartment, and he wouldn’t have to deal with thinking about the end of his relationship.

And if it got to be too much, he would totally listen to his dad and reach out for help. Probably, anyway, he’d make sure it wasn’t too noticeable at least. Stiles really wasn’t the best at asking for help, and he knew it, and all the people who loved him knew it, but he would try. His stomach growled, and he glanced at the clock, realizing it was already 4:30 in the afternoon and he’d yet to have eaten anything.

Stiles shut down his work computer, knowing that he’d accomplished as much as he wanted to and needed to for the day. He sat for a moment, trying to decide if it was worth making a full grocery run or if he should just order food and worry about stocking his refrigerator tomorrow. Thinking on the work he wanted to get done, he figured he should just take care of groceries now and pick up something that was either pre-made or would be easy to cook for that night. Since he was already hungry, though, he slipped on his shoes, picked up his car keys, and headed out to the hallway.

The hallway where Peter was also exiting his apartment, reusable grocery bags in hand. He raised a hand in greeting to Stiles as they both headed for the stairwell.

“You’re going grocery shopping as well, then?” Stiles asked, just trying to make friendly conversation.

Peter perked up at the words. “I am, you are too? Figures if you’ve just moved in you’ll be sure to need a lot. I could drive you instead if you were planning to walk, that way you wouldn’t have to carry quite so much.”

Stiles was taken aback - neighbors don’t just offer to take their neighbors to the grocery store, do they? After he got over his initial shock, he held out his car keys, responding, “No, I’m covered. Thanks, though, Peter.”

The other man nodded in response, holding the door open for Stiles as they reached the ground floor. They continued over to the parking area, Stiles scanning his card to enter for the first time, making sure it worked as expected. He held the door for Peter this time, getting a brighter smile from the man as he looked up from where he had seemingly been ogling Stiles’ ass. Internally, Stiles rolled his eyes, but he made a beeline for the Jeep, holding a hand in the air as if to wave goodbye to Peter. 

He didn’t turn to look at where Peter went, focusing on getting in the Jeep and getting it started. Years ago he may have had to hope very hard that his key would turn and the engine would ignite, but he’d been fortunate enough to get repairs on repairs to restore the Jeep practically to its original glory. It started smoothly, and he shifted gear to back out of the parking space and move to pull out of the lot. He rolled down the driver’s side window and reached an arm out, scanning his card once again to open the gate in front of him.

Stiles pulled out smoothly, lucky that although he had moved, it wasn’t an unfamiliar area. It was very easy for him to navigate his way to the grocery store that he favored, and simple enough to restock. He had to pick up some basics - spices, baking supplies, and the like - but it was mostly just fresh produce and meat that he added to his cart. Years of encouraging his dad to eat healthy had stuck with him, and Stiles was relatively proud of the diet that he maintained.

He did pick up more junk food than usual - some chips, ice cream, and a pair of six-packs that he fully intended on lasting a long time - but he attributed that to his mood and figured he was certainly allowed to slack a little. As he moved to the checkout, he also grabbed a rotisserie chicken that was already cooked and warm, figuring he’d get a nice dinner out of it and have leftovers. The endeavor took a little longer than usual - closer to 45 minutes than Stiles’ usual efficient, half-hour grocery trips - but was still nice and quick, and he was heading home when he realized he was going the wrong way.

David’s place wasn’t home anymore, and the thought struck Stiles unbidden. It wasn’t like he could really call the apartment that he’d barely lived in for a day and a half home yet, and he didn’t like the feeling of being so untethered. Nevertheless, he made a U-turn at the next traffic light and headed in the other direction, back past the grocery store and toward his apartment building.

He got into the parking garage as easily as he’d gotten out, parked the Jeep, and wondered if he could make it to his place in one trip or not. Balancing four bags on each arm, he locked the car and headed back toward the building. The first challenge presented itself when he got to the door and realized he didn’t have a free hand to open it.

Grudgingly, he set down one arm’s worth of bags and fished his keys out of his pocket, entering the lobby of the building and heading for the elevator for the first time since bringing his bigger furniture in. Stiles wasn’t a fan of the enclosed space and other safety concerns with elevators, but he also knew his limits and that if he took the stairs, he’d be liable to drop something. And with his luck, it’d be something breakable. 

Luckily he had the elevator car to himself, and didn’t have to bother making small talk or apologize for all the space he was taking up with his groceries. The elevator dinged and ground to a halt as it announced that he had reached the third floor, and Stiles waited patiently for the doors to open before rushing down the hall to his apartment. He managed to get the door unlocked after setting down half his groceries again, then pulled them inside and closed the door behind him.

No matter how good shape he was in, he’d always overdo it with the groceries. He was in the middle of putting everything away when there were three precise knocks on his door in rapid succession. Not expecting anyone, Stiles was certainly wary of answering the door, but he did so anyway. At least his frozens were already stored. 

When he opened the door, he had to take a second to not roll his eyes, but he screamed internally.

“Stiles, I trust you had a pleasant shopping trip.”

“It was nice and easy, yes, Peter. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Oh no, actually, I just wondered if this was yours?” From behind his back, Peter produced a box of pasta that must’ve fallen out of Stiles’ grocery bags. He hadn’t finished putting the dry goods away yet, so he hadn’t noticed it was missing.

“It is! Must’ve fallen out of the bag while I was carrying everything in. Thanks for bringing it over,” Stiles said, reaching out to take the box from Peter’s hand. Their hands brushed briefly and it almost felt like electricity flowed between them, but Stiles dismissed it. He didn’t notice the sharp inhale of breath that Peter took, or the look of bewilderment that passed over his features.

He had righted himself before Stiles looked back up to meet his eyes. “I didn’t see anything else on my way up, so I think you should be alright. Have a good night, Stiles,” he said, then walked briskly down the hall.

It struck Stiles as odd, considering how eager Peter had seemed for his company earlier, but he wasn’t complaining about getting some space from the other man. He simply stepped back inside, box of pasta secure in his hand, and shut and locked his door.

Stiles finished unpacking his groceries, dished up the chicken and some simple veggies he could eat raw with it, and settled to eat at his table. Once he’d cleaned up, he decided to indulge a bit after so much action, and settled into soft pajamas after he showered, grabbing his bear and a fuzzy, gray blanket before snuggling into his couch and pulling up a familiar favorite - Hercules - to watch and unwind to.

He sang along softly, relishing in the warmth and comfort around him, and felt nice and relaxed by the time the film ended. It was a bit early, but he set his alarm for the morning and moved to bed anyway. Stiles lay awake on his phone for another hour or two, playing mindless games, before plugging it in and shutting off his light. He fell asleep and stayed asleep much easier.

The next morning was more like his prior routine - he got up, dressed, and started the coffee-maker. After a quick breakfast, he double-checked his schedule and email on his phone, and decided to head to the studio. He pulled on a jacket and his shoes, double checked that he had his wallet, phone, and keys, and left the apartment.

The universe must have had an incredibly funny sense of humor, because as soon as he entered the hall, he saw Peter leaving his place as well. He was dressed very differently than Stiles had seen him previously; in a full suit and tie, briefcase and travel mug in hand. He still seemed to notice Stiles’ presence immediately, giving him a wave and calling out a soft, “Good morning, Stiles. Headed to work?”

As Stiles met up with him and the pair started to descend the stairs, he replied. “I am, and I assume you are as well, dressed like that?”

Peter let out a soft laugh. “You’d assume correctly. I’m a lawyer, so the attire is a hard requirement.” He paused, taking in Stiles’ casual hoodie and jeans, before continuing, “Though I assume it’s not the same for you?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly as they continued to walk. “No, things are more casual for me. I’m more of a freelancer, so work is flexible for me. I definitely have to be classy on occasion, though.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s quite the sight when you are. Not that there’s anything wrong with the way you look now - but those long lines in a suit would be positively sinful.”

Stiles couldn’t help but blush, the forward flirting overwhelming him. 

“Thanks,” he responded lamely, “you don’t look so bad yourself.”

For some reason, Peter seemed to be both amused and satisfied by Stiles’ response. He did seem surprised when they exited the building and Stiles didn’t follow him over to the parking garage. 

“Not driving to work?”

“Not today, it’s close enough to walk and a beautiful day out. Have a good one, Peter,” Stiles responded, speeding his steps up in order to cut the conversation short.

Peter could sense a dismissal when he saw it, so he simply nodded and returned the sentiment before diverting his path and heading to the parking garage to get in his car.

Stiles enjoyed the walk to the studio, pushing Peter’s constant presence to the edge of his mind as best he could. If he got really persistent, well, Stiles would have to do something. But for now, it was mostly harmless.

Out of habit, he checked over both of his shoulders before unlocking the front door to the studio and moving into the big, open space. He locked the door behind him, removing his jacket and docking his phone by the door, setting a playlist that was several hours long to start playing at a soft volume before moving toward the small desk he had in the back of the room.

He booted up the laptop resting on the desk, pulling up his calendar and looking at the list of commissions that he’d analyzed and prioritized the previous day. There was one that was in progress already, an anniversary gift that was a replication of the beautiful garden that the couple had been married in, but Stiles found that he wanted to start fresh (and yes, okay, the idea of working on someone else’s anniversary gift wasn’t exactly thrilling at the moment).

Stiles double-checked the size of canvas he needed to pull out of stock, setting it on the stand where he’d taken David’s anniversary painting down from just a few days ago. This commission was much more straightforward - a replication of the city’s skyline for a local business to hang in their lobby - and he printed a few reference photos from the laptop before grabbing a set of pencils and perching himself on a stool in front of the blank canvas.

He sketched for a while, until he was satisfied with the starting point he’d created for himself. Upon checking the time, he realized it was already approaching noon, and decided to take a walk to the coffeeshop that he’d met Scott at to get a fresh cup and a small sandwich for lunch. It was busy, so he opted to take it back to the studio and eat the small meal at his desk.

Stiles spent the afternoon working on the painting, creating a strong base for the work, knowing that he’d go back and refine it and add detail another time. After some time, he moved his stool over to the anniversary painting and managed to put a few hours of work into it before deciding to call it a day.

After he’d tidied up, gathered his belongings, and turned off the lights, he locked the door behind him and left to walk back to the apartment building. Heading in the front door, he noticed the police car parked close to the door, but didn’t think much of it until he ascended the stairs and saw two uniformed officers outside his own door. His heart started beating rapidly, terrified something had happened to his father.

“Hello?” he called out to the officers as he moved down the hallway. “Can I help you?”

“Are you M-Mie-Miec- Mr. Stilinski?” The taller officer asked, deciding that Stiles’ first name wasn’t worth the trouble, which Stiles himself certainly agreed with.

“Yes, that’s me. Is something wrong? Did something happen to my father?”

The officers exchanged a look of confusion, before the second one spoke up, “No, we’re not here about anything like that, Mr. Stilinski. We’re here regarding a report of stolen property by a Mr. David Kaplan.”

Stiles’ heart slowed from his earlier panic, and stopped for a full beat. _What?_


	3. My Spite, My Tears, My Beers, and My Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from "Closure" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Thank you all again for your support on this fic! I finished outlining everything I'd like to have happen, and I believe this will wrap up in a total of 14 chapters. Definitely hoping to keep up with the posting once a week on Tuesdays. And I promise the Steter is coming soon - please be patient with Stiles :)

“ _What?_ ” Stiles responded, wanting to confirm what he’d heard, but knowing in his heart that he already knew what they’d said, and what David had done.

“Mr. Kaplan is alleging that you took a rather large amount of his property from his home when you left last week,” the first officer responded again, both men looking slightly uncomfortable at the rage that Stiles was doing a poor job of disguising.

Stiles moved forward to open his door. “Well, you’re welcome to come in, and I’m sure you’ll find all he’s said I ‘stole’,” and he did actually place air quotes around the word as he spat it out, “but I made sure that I only took items that I had specifically purchased when we moved in together. I didn’t take a single thing that he owned.”

The officers shared another glance, following Stiles into the apartment. With no written agreement, and no receipts for items he’d purchased years ago, Stiles knew he had little to no proof that he actually owned any of the items. God, of course they hadn’t had any joint accounts and Stiles had made it easy enough by moving out, but David had to go and make a point. Just to hurt Stiles when he was already vulnerable.

What a fucking dickhead.

He tried not to let his anger show too outwardly, though, since he knew that the cops weren’t there to deal with his bad attitude, and things would only be more stressful if they got agitated by him.   
“Does he have any proof that I actually took anything that belonged to him?”

The first officer inhaled deeply before responding, “We didn’t realize that there had been a personal relationship between you - Mr. Kaplan insinuated more that you had been roommates.”

Stiles couldn’t hold himself back from barking out a laugh. “We were together for three years, and I wish I could say I was surprised. So, what do I do? Do I just have to give him everything he’s asking for?”

The second officer spoke up, a grimace on his face as he was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. “At this point in time, we need to seize the property that’s been reported as stolen. Your account of the situation certainly changes things, though. We’ll need to mediate any potential exchange of the items down at the station.”

He sounded apologetic, but Stiles couldn’t deny that it was a less than ideal situation. Still, he knew that fighting against things now wouldn’t do him any good. When they were at the station and he was face-to-face with David, well, that would be a completely different story. 

“Well, I suppose you have a list, then.”

Stiles cooperated as the officers ran down the list of items David had reported stolen - most of them were mundane, clearly intended just to bother Stiles, like a set of sheets and towels, and Stiles’ favorite throw pillow from. Some were less so, like his coffee-maker, bedside lamp, and worst of all, his work computer.

That was the first time Stiles protested - he was angry at the other items, of course, but he could live without them. This was David trying to mess with his livelihood, which was different. Regardless, he surrendered it for the time being. He was the only one who could log into it, and he could prove it was registered with his account, so he wasn’t worried about losing it.

“There’s only one more item,” the more sympathetic officer started, reading from the report that David had filed, “a pendant necklace on black cord, which Mr. Kaplan described as depicting two intertwined foxes.”

Stiles took a step back, hand instinctively going up to his chest where the pendant rested under his shirt. 

“No,” he responded, voice practically shaking with his anger, “not that. This was my mother’s - she died when I was only a child. If I absolutely must, I’ll bring it with me when I come down to the station, but I’m not handing it over. I’m not losing this.”

The conviction in his voice had clearly convinced the officer who’d initially asked for it, but the other seemed to ignore it altogether. 

“It’ll be much easier for everyone if you just cooperate. Give us the pendant,” he stated, approaching Stiles.

“I said no,” Stiles snarled, taking another reflexive step back. “I literally gave you the sheets off of my bed, and the computer I use for work. I know it’s not your job to resolve this conflict between us, and I know this isn’t personal for you, but it is for me. And I’m not just going to give this up because David wants to hurt me.”

“That’s fine,” the kinder officer interrupted, holding his colleague back, “just make sure you have it with you.”

Stiles was still angry, but he knew it was a reasonable compromise, so he nodded and relaxed a bit. “When do I need to come down to the station?”

“Tomorrow, if you can make it. We’ll call you to make sure, after we call Mr. Kaplan as well. Just try to keep your phone on you.”

Stiles nodded in acceptance, dictating his cell number to the officer, while the other gathered Stiles’ belongings up in his arms, getting ready to leave. Once he had Stiles’ contact information, the officer took what the other couldn’t carry, and they took their leave. 

As soon as he was sure they were gone, Stiles threw himself down on his bed, face-down, and screamed into his pillow. He knew it was an immature move, but he couldn’t help himself. He had made this so easy on David - packing up and clearing out of his life - but it seemed that the older man just couldn’t stop himself from hurting Stiles. Well, Stiles didn’t intend on letting him get away with it this easily.

After he decompressed a bit, he picked up his phone and texted Scott and his dad to let them both know what had happened. He also texted his agent - the wonderful Lydia Martin - to let her know about the situation and to have her be alert in case David tried to pull anything with his career. He got a mixture of responses - Scott ready to go confront David himself, his dad offering to come to the station as well and advising Stiles on how to handle the exchange, and Lydia informing him that he was an idiot for not telling her sooner, but that she would be on the lookout.

He sat, head leaning back against the headboard, on his bare mattress and lamented his situation. Truly for the first time since he’d moved, he regretted leaving David. If he had just kept quiet, kept dealing with things as they were, this wouldn’t have happened. And sure, he’d still be stuck in that situation, but after having his apartment stripped and one of his most prized possessions threatened, it didn’t seem quite so terrible. Of course the rational part of his brain knew he’d done the right thing, especially if David was the type of person to resort to this petty bullshit, but it still hurt.

Everything hurt, and all he wanted was to let go of it for a bit. Let go of his pain and his responsibilities and just float - but David had taken that, too. Sure, they hadn’t scened in quite some time before Stiles had left anyway, but the option was still there. David had still exuded authority and made big decisions, allowing Stiles to feel safe and depend on him where he could.

It struck Stiles sharply to realize just how alone he was. Even with the huge distance between them, David had still been there, some of the time at least. 

He wanted to try to take some comfort, watch a movie in his soft pajamas again, but he knew that the next day would be draining and figured it was best he just put a new set of sheets on the bed and try to get some rest. It had taken a lot of time to speak to the officers and gather his things, and his stomach growled in hunger for dinner, but he didn’t feel like he could really bring himself to eat.

Instead, he went to the linen closet and pulled out a backup set of sheets, making the bed quickly before stripping his clothes off and heading for the shower. Under the hot water, his blood started to boil as well. Who the _fuck_ did David think he was? Hadn’t he already hurt Stiles enough? Hadn’t he already shattered the promises he’d made about being faithful, about being supportive, about loving Stiles?

Stiles just didn’t get it. He was fiercely protective of the people he loved - but revenge was never his focus. He wanted to make sure his friends and family knew they were loved, that they weren’t alone, and he didn’t accomplish that by inflicting harm on the people who had hurt them. At the moment, though, he could see the appeal. He imagined Lydia tearing David’s career apart, his dad showing up to arrest him, Scott losing his temper and taking a swing at his face. None of it made him feel better. He wondered if David filing his false report and sending officers to Stiles’ place had made him feel better, or if he was even hurt in the first place.

And that was the real sticking point for Stiles - had he hurt David by leaving? It certainly hadn’t seemed like it. David wasn’t wanting for company, had said nothing but harsh words to Stiles at the end. That’s why this seemed so petty - it wasn’t as if Stiles had ruined David’s life. All he’d done was leave, but David seemed to think that deserved a punishment.

As the water started to run cold, Stiles got out and dried off. He sat on top of the freshly made bed, anger still feeling like it was going to boil over and out of him. His finger hovered over David’s contact in his phone, ready to call and give the other man a piece of his mind, but a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his dad reminded him that it would be a bad idea, and that he shouldn’t give David any ammunition ahead of tomorrow.

Instead, he moved to his photos and started scrolling through. Some of the more recent photos with himself and Scott, or his dad, made him smile. As he went back further, though, he found more and more photos of himself and David, which only made him feel worse. They really had been happy, for a while, and Stiles missed it. There was this huge part of him that was sure maybe he could’ve tried harder and made it work, or that he just hadn’t given David enough of a chance or the benefit of the doubt. 

The conflicting emotions overwhelmed him, and without his permission, Stiles began to cry. He hadn’t cried at all, not really, since he’d left David, and it spilled out of him. The anger and spite, even bitter hatred, mixed with a deep sense of sadness and loss. Stiles just wanted to find a way back to himself, to be able to define who he was without David, but it seemed so impossible. Even though he’d left David, his emotions were still directed by the other man. Stiles felt so small, and not in the good way that he enjoyed, but in a way that made him feel utterly worthless.

He lay sobbing on his bed for what felt like hours, eventually reaching over to plug his phone in, then cuddling close to his teddy bear even as his tears continued to fall. The space on his bedside table where his lamp should’ve been felt unusually large, like it was representing the aching void that Stiles felt inside himself. The pillowcase was wet with his tears, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He fell into a restless sleep just like that, hopelessness taking over every inch of his body, mind, and soul.

Stiles woke with a headache, feeling disoriented and cranky, and to his phone ringing. He grabbed it and croaked out, “Hello?” only to hear the voice of the kinder officer from the day before - Officer Finck, he reminded Stiles.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski?”

“Yep, that’s me. What time are you expecting me down at the station?”

“Noon, if it works for you. Mr. Kaplan indicated that he would be able to visit over his lunch break, and we figured it would be best to resolve this as early as possible, especially given the critical nature of some of the items.”

Yeah, that was one way to phrase it. Stiles desperately wanted his work computer back in his hands, and his bedside lamp at the very least. He’d like to have the throw pillow back too, and like hell he was going to give up his pendant, but that was what mattered to him the most. He could buy new sheets and towels if David really cared enough to take his.

“Yes, I’m available at that time. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you then, Mr. Stilinski.” With nothing else, the officer hung up, and Stiles looked at his phone to see it was already nearing 9:00. Since he couldn’t do any work in the apartment and figured he wouldn’t be productive at the studio, he had time, but it was impossible to think about anything outside of meeting David. 

Stiles knew he didn’t want to see him. He knew that David would look smug, at least to him, and that it would hurt the entire time. David wasn’t seeing him to talk about fixing things, or to apologize. He was just trying to take more from Stiles, and he knew he’d have to focus on that and not let himself get swept up in the other man’s presence. When he looked at his face in the mirror, he sighed: he looked like an absolute mess. His eyes were red and swollen from how hard he’d been crying, and the bags under his eyes were dark and heavy. He was always thin, but he looked almost gaunt, and if it hadn’t been impossible, he would’ve thought he’d already dropped weight. Maybe he had - eating hadn’t exactly been a priority with the move and then how he’d felt afterwards - but it seemed unlikely for him to have changed so drastically in such a short time. Still, he hated the physical reminders of the pain he was in.

It may not have been a competition, but David was clearly winning.

When Stiles got to the police station, fifteen minutes before noon, David was already there waiting. He looked as sharp as always, suit crisp and a pleasant, neutral expression on his face. Stiles did his best to ignore seeing him there, instead approaching the desk directly. He informed the female officer why he was there and provided Officer Finck’s name. She indicated that he should take a seat next to David while they waited.

Stiles couldn’t help it; he froze. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn and look at the spot next to the man he’d loved, sitting on a hard, wooden bench. It was far too close, too intimate. He stood, longer than was appropriate, and a frown appeared on the officer’s face. Luckily, Stiles was saved by Officer Finck and his partner walking out of a room and heading toward the desk.

“Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Kaplan. Thank you both for joining us. If you’ll follow me, we can work on sorting this mess out.”

Still trying to avoid David’s eyes, Stiles stepped forward first. They were led back to what looked like a conference room, Stiles’ belongings in neat piles on the central table. Officer Finck’s partner, whose name Stiles couldn’t be bothered to remember, shut the door behind the four of them. Luckily for Stiles though, Officer Finck was the first one to speak.

“I’m not sure what exactly there is to sort out here. I was robbed, and the perpetrator of the crime is in this room. Why is it not as simple as I walk out of here with what rightfully belongs me and leave you to deal with _him_?” David sneered out the last word, shooting a disdainful look over at Stiles in the process.

He took a deep breath to steel himself. He wasn’t going to let David’s derision get to him; not this soon, anyway. It was bound to be a long, stressful event. He couldn’t lose it this early.

Stiles responded, proud of how steady his voice was, “I am not sure how you’ve interpreted my moving out of our shared home with possessions that I purchased as a robbery, but these items belong to me.” 

“Is that true, Mr. Kaplan? You indicated to us that Mr. Stilinski was a roommate or a tenant of yours, and not someone that you shared a personal relationship with.”  
David rolled his eyes before addressing the officer. “I’m not sure what difference it makes. He did not have permission to remove my property from my home.”

“Look, take the linens if they mean that much to you, David. I purchased them, so they certainly aren’t your property, but if it’ll get you to give up this little game, you can have them. But that is my coffee-maker, my work computer, my bedside lamp, my favorite throw pillow. If you’re desperate for it, you can keep the lamp and pillow too. That computer is essential to my livelihood, I purchased it and I am and always have been the sole user of it. That coffee-maker is a kitchen appliance that I purchased and used - you still have the coffee pot that you had when I moved in with you.”

Stiles paused to take a deep breath and continue, but was cut off by the second officer. “That’s all fine and well, Mr. Stilinski, but we still do need to determine if a crime was committed here. If you stole this property, then you certainly don’t get a say in what Mr. Kaplan gets to recover.”

“I didn’t steal any of it! We were a couple who lived together, of course there were things we each purchased individually that were used by both of us. However, me leaving David and moving out and taking things I purchased with me isn’t a crime. Especially things that had nothing to do with him, like my work computer.”

Officer Finck cut in. “Can you confirm that you had a personal relationship with Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Kaplan?”

Knowing he was caught out, likely having expected that Stiles wouldn’t have put up a fight at all, David made a small concession. “Yes, we were romantically involved. He still had no right to remove these items from my home without my permission. He may consider that his ‘work computer’, but we both used it, and I assisted in the purchase of it.”

“That’s a lie. We both used it? Sign into it right now. Go ahead and prove that your name is on the account for it, that your name is on the license for any of its software.”

It went back and forth until Stiles simply signed in to the computer to show his proof that it was his and his alone, which both officers conceded, though it left David scowling. They did this over most of the items - Stiles securing the coffee-maker and lamp, but conceding the linens and his favorite pillow, which bothered him more than he thought it should have.

Then, the pendant came up, which Stiles had truly been dreading. David was smiling viciously, as if he knew this was the one thing that would really, truly hurt Stiles if he could take it away.

“It’s a family heirloom,” David responded when Officer Finck asked him about it, which made Stiles see red.

“Yes, it is. _My_ family heirloom, of which you are not a part of. My mother gave that to me, as you well know, and I won’t let you take it away from me.”   
David faked a gasp. “Still accusing me of being a liar, Stiles? I’m hurt. I’m afraid this pendant is rather dear to me, and I’m not willing to let you walk away with it.”

Stiles turned to the officers. “Please, isn’t there anything we can do? I’ve already handed things that were mine over to him. But not this - please, not this.” He was disappointed to note that the beginnings of tears were in his voice, and he felt the control he’d been working so hard to maintain starting to slip. He couldn’t lose this piece of his mother, not when he’d lost her so long ago already.

“My father! My father could confirm that it was a gift from my mother when I was young, right before she got sick. You probably already have his phone number - he’s the sheriff over in Beacon Hills.”

Officer Finck was the only one of them to show outward surprise at that, but even his partner raised an eyebrow. “You’re John’s kid?” he asked gruffly.

“Yes, John Stilinski is my father. I’m sure he’s at the station if you’d call now. He’ll confirm it. It’ll likely upset him, bringing up his dead wife and the fact that his son is involved in this dispute at all, but if it’ll resolve this, please just call him.”

Before David could react, or try to bring anything else up, the other officer left the room to go make the call, while Officer Finck stayed in the room, looking between the two of them as if to make sure they kept the peace. He didn’t need to be worried, though, Stiles wasn’t interested in starting any further drama. He just wanted to take his belongings and get the hell out of dodge. David had succeeded in hurting him, sure, but the bastard didn’t need to get to sit around and watch how bothered Stiles was.

“Will this take much longer? I’m a very busy man,” David sneered as the officer re-entered the room.

“No,” his tone was short and cold, “we’re just about done here. Mr. Stilinski will be keeping the pendant, and in fact all of his belongings. And should he like to press charges against you for filing a false report, he is more than welcome to do so as well.”

Stiles was flushed with a wave of relief, noting that he’d have to call his dad and thank him for whatever he’d said to the officer, because he’d certainly changed his tune.

“I appreciate that, but I wouldn’t want to make this any more difficult. He can keep everything that he argued was his - I can get new sheets and towels anyway - but I’d like the pillow to come back with me as well, if it’s not going to be an issue.”

David opened his mouth, likely about to interject that it was an issue, but the officer cut him off again. “That won’t be an issue, son. Thank you for your cooperation - you’re both free to go. If you need a hand out to your vehicle, Officer Finck can assist you, Mr. Stilinski.”  
Stiles nodded, accepting the help, and decided that he wouldn’t give David another second of his time or attention. Without looking at the other man, he gathered the computer, lamp, and pillow in his arms, gesturing for Officer Finck to get the coffee-maker, and turned to leave the room.

“You don’t get to just walk away from this, Stiles,” David’s voice was hard, but Stiles didn’t care.

He absolutely did get to walk away from this - from David and his drama - and that was all he intended to do.

Officer Finck followed him out to the Jeep, placing the coffee-maker in his passenger side seat at Stiles’ direction. “Listen, I’m sorry again about all this,” he started to apologize.

Stiles shook his head, giving the officer a sad smile. “Not your fault; you were just doing your job. I should’ve known he’d try something, I just didn’t think he’d do this. I appreciate your help.”

“Well, if you ever need anything I’m sure your father has your back, but please don’t hesitate to reach out,” he handed a business card over to Stiles, who responded with a more genuine smile.

“Thank you.”

With that, their business concluded, the officer nodded at Stiles and made his way back in the station, where it looked like David was still arguing with the other officer, even on his way out the door. Stiles didn’t bother to stick around for the scene he would undoubtedly draw, starting the Jeep and driving back to his place.

He’d barely parked before his phone rang, his dad’s contact flashing on the screen.

Stiles decided to pick up, figuring that he’d have to make two trips to carry everything anyway. “Hey, old man. I don’t know what kind of magic you worked, but I appreciate you having my back.”

“You did decide to press charges, right?”

“No,” Stiles sighed, gathering what he could carry with his free arm and closing the door to the Jeep, heading toward the building. “I didn’t think it was worth it, honestly. He’d already made such a mess of things - I just wanted to take my things and get out of there.”

“Stiles,” his dad started, but Stiles didn’t want to hear all the reasons he should’ve done something else.

“I know it would’ve been good for him to pay for what he did, dad. But I just didn’t want to drag things out. I got my stuff back, and both of the officers seemed to be much more stern with David as time went on and they realized how much he’d been lying about. I’ve already basically lost a day of work to all his bullshit, I didn’t want to waste any more time.”

Stiles was heading up the stairs as his dad responded, still grumbling a bit about Stiles’ decision not to press charges. As he exited the stairwell, he passed a confused-looking Peter, but raised his chin in a greeting since his hands were full.

“Look, dad, I appreciate you looking out for me. But I definitely think this will have scared him off for a while. The cops here at least won’t back anything else he tries. I can handle whatever he throws at me; David doesn’t get to control my life.”

He certainly didn’t feel the confidence that he was using to back his words, but it appeared to be enough to appease his dad. They exchanged a few more words as Stiles exited his apartment and moved to go back down the stairs to grab his coffee-maker from the car. He was a bit surprised to see Peter just getting into the parking garage at the same time Stiles approached.

Peter held the door open for him, a look of concern on his face. “Is everything alright Stiles? You seem upset, and what’s up with moving your things back in again?”

Stiles tried to force a smile. “Just dealing with a vindictive ex. Nothing I can’t handle, thanks.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean any offense. I have to get back to the office, so I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

It seemed genuine, lacking some of Peter’s usual smarm, but Stiles still didn’t quite buy it. Still, he didn’t feel like confronting Peter at the moment, so he simply smiled and nodded in thanks, heading back to the Jeep. 

He pulled the last of his items from the vehicle, locking it behind him, and followed his path back to the apartment building. He made it upstairs without issue, feeling relieved when the door shut behind him and he could lock it. It was like he was locking the world out - no more today, Stiles is closed for business, thanks, maybe don’t come back another day.

Stiles just felt so overwhelmed - so much had changed and happened in such a short span of time, and he hadn’t processed it at all. He’d just gone through the motions, made snap decisions, and it was catching up to him.

Feeling the edges of panic creeping in, Stiles grabbed the pillow he’d luckily gotten back and the fluffy blanket from the back of his couch, and headed to bed. No part of him cared that it was the middle of the day - that he should’ve been working, or talking to his dad or friends, or anything else.

He just felt fully _drained_ , like there was no life in him at all. He rolled himself into a blanket burrito, started a breakup playlist he found on Spotify, set his phone to Do Not Disturb, then turned on his side and cried. He thought he’d let it all out the night before, but he was wrong. There was so much emotion built up in him - the rage and frustration of the last week, combined with the two years of sadness and neglect from his relationship with David. He was feeling all the effects of having been so unhappy in his relationship for so long, and it hurt more than any physical blow could have.

Stiles remained like that for hours, only getting up to get a glass of water and a small snack when his stomach rumbled and he felt the dehydrating effects of all his tears. After he’d eaten, he refilled his water glass and returned to his blanket burrito. There was no draw to anything - work was too much to focus on, as was reading, and all of his comfort activities were tainted with memories of his time with David. 

He wondered if he’d even be able to trust someone enough to take him down again - to allow someone to see him so vulnerable and to know that it was wanted and appreciated. It seemed so impossible. He’d only had it consistently in his first year with David, along with partners he’d scened with before, but he missed it desperately. There was something so comforting about being able to fully be himself and be safe with someone like that.

David had been that person - both when Stiles was little and not. And it hadn’t been torn from him, ripped away by a violent loss, but it had been worn away over time along with all the things that made Stiles himself, and that hurt even more. 

He didn’t mean to, but Stiles fell asleep early, not having bothered to shower in the evening. He cracked a swollen eye open in the morning once again, feeling deja vu from the previous morning. For almost half an hour he just sat in bed, unmoving and blessedly unthinking. Eventually, though, he sat up and grabbed his phone, which was low on battery for not having been plugged in overnight. 

After turning of Do Not Disturb, he realized he had an overwhelming amount of notifications. He didn’t want anything to do with any of them - only shooting off a text to Lydia to let her know he was going to need a couple of days to recover, but would try to get back to work by the weekend to make his deadlines for the commissions he had in progress. She replied to let him know that it was fine and that he should take care of himself, and that she would be there for him if he needed her.

Stiles didn’t respond. 

Instead, he placed his phone back on Do Not Disturb and plugged it in, grabbing his fluffy blanket and pillow and heading out to the couch. If he was just going to sulk in his feelings, he figured he could at least do it with coffee and in moderate sunlight from the windows in his living room. It was healthier than staying in bed all day, so he figured it counted as saying he was taking care of himself, even if he knew it wasn’t true.

He plugged the coffee-maker back in, the fact that it had been removed another one of the constant reminders of his failed relationship. While it was brewing, he made an attempt at poking through the groceries he’d bought, but nothing drew his attention. It was like his body knew it was hungry, but his brain just didn’t care.

Once his coffee was ready, he curled up on the couch and turned the TV on, flipping through channels before settling on some cartoons. It wasn’t something he _directly_ connected with being little, so it wasn’t as dangerous of a thought as some of the other choices he had. He did nothing but lay there, halfheartedly paying attention to the screen, but mostly letting his mind just drift. 

Hours and hours passed by, and Stiles didn’t move. He got up once to go to the bathroom and check his phone, sending a callous text to Scott after seeing his friend had messaged him frequently, essentially just telling him that Stiles was fine but just needed to be alone. It was an easy lie to tell, and Stiles didn’t feel bad about it at all. If Scott came by, Stiles would have to pretend and work to try to keep Scott comfortable and entertained and he just didn’t have the energy to do it.

He went right back to the couch, but being in the bathroom had given him an idea. Soaking in a warm bath sounded almost as good as not moving, plus he knew he’d skipped his shower the night before and was starting to feel it. After another hour or so of mindlessly watching TV, he got himself up and started running a bath, adding a little soap into the stream of warm water to make it bubbly. 

Stiles wandered back out to the kitchen while his bath filled, checking the time and grabbing a beer when he saw that it was late enough in the afternoon to be acceptable. Sure, he was in a funk, but he wasn’t going to become a day-drunk over it. His stomach rumbled as he downed the first beer, and he figured if it was still doing so after his bath, he’d make dinner. In the meantime, he cracked open another beer and headed back to the steamy bathroom.

Clothes dropped carelessly on the bathroom floor, Stiles made one more trip back to the linen closet to grab a few small candles and a lighter. He carefully set his fresh beer down outside the tub and climbed in, turning off the water as he settled in the tub. He sat up for a moment just to light the candles and place them safely on the front corners of the tub.

With everything settled, he laid back and enjoyed the comfort of the warm water surrounding him. It was an all-consuming sensation for his physical body, allowing his mind to relax just a fraction. After soaking for some time, he wanted to stretch his legs out, so he sat up and reached over the edge of the tub for his beer.

He continued to just sit and soak, taking sips of the cold beer until it was nothing but another empty bottle. He set it back down where he’d had it and closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the last few minutes of warmth in the bath. The water was rapidly cooling, and he knew he had to get out soon. But it was truly like his own bubble - a place where the outside world didn’t exist and couldn’t bother him - and he was reluctant to leave.

Still, the cold water was significantly less comforting, so he got up and drained the tub, drying himself off and blowing the candles out. He left them there should the urge to take a bath take him again before he showered next. 

He dressed in his soft pajamas again, figuring he could handle it if he put on a newer movie that he didn’t associate with being little, and curled up on the couch with a bowl of mac and cheese and a third beer. It was more than he’d usually drink, but it wasn’t like he was blacking out, and no one was around to police his intake anyway. He knew that it was his own design, but he still felt bitter about it, no matter how conflicting those two feelings were. 

Watching the protagonist of the children’s movie safely make it through her adventure and end up in the arms of her love only made Stiles feel worse, though, and he began to cry again. He was sick and tired of crying, but it was like he couldn’t help it. There was so much happiness in the world - so many people in love - and he wasn’t one of the ones who got it. He didn’t deserve it, and life was showing him that.

He went to bed early once again, sending a text to reassure his dad he was alive before falling asleep almost immediately. The next day was much of the same, though he moved the candles out of the tub and managed to take a shower, which felt like a victory. It ended similarly, though, with Stiles half-drunk and crying at a children’s movie on the couch. 

The next day proceeded in the same manner, until evening when a knock on his door brought him out of his crying. Uncaring of how he looked with his red-rimmed eyes and pajamas at an inappropriate time of day, he wrapped himself in his blanket and went to answer the door. And surprise surprise, it was fucking Peter.

“Hi Stiles, I’m sorry to be a bother, but I couldn’t help but overhear that you seem to be having a really tough time lately, and I wanted to see if there was anything you needed. If you needed someone to talk to, or just to be with you, or - “

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Look, just back off, okay? It’s none of your fucking business, frankly, and it’s weird how attached to me you’ve acted. We’re neighbors, not friends. Just leave me alone.”

“What about your friends that you’ve been ignoring? Do we need to leave too?” Scott’s voice piped up from behind Peter, who moved to the side looking surprised and revealing that Lydia was there along with Scott. Peter and Scott stared at each other for a long moment, saying nothing.

Eventually, Peter turned back to Stiles. “You’re right - I was out of line. Forgive me. I’ll see myself out - but please let your friends help you, if you won’t let me.”

The last part of his sentence was almost whispered in comparison to the rest, as if Peter hadn’t meant to say it out loud. True to his word, Peter made his way down the hall away from the trio standing in Stiles’ doorway and back into his own apartment.

Stiles turned his attention back to Scott and Lydia with a scowl on his face. “I haven’t been ignoring you. I said I needed to be alone - hence me being _alone_. Nice of you both to drop by or whatever, but I need to - “

“You _need_ to cut the bullshit and let us help you, since you clearly aren’t going to do it for yourself.” Lydia cut in, brash and to the point as always. She pushed past him, though he offered no resistance, and stood in the kitchen behind Stiles.

Scott followed her lead, and shut the door behind himself, leaving the three of them standing there.

“Well, at least it’s still clean. I thought for sure I’d need to put some elbow grease into this place, which is nice, by the way.”

“It’s not even been a week, Lydia. How much do you really think I could’ve messed up here?”

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him and his disheveled appearance. “I can’t believe you even think you need to ask that. And it means one other thing, at least out here - you haven’t been eating, not really. That’s going to change.”

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” Lydia continued, “you’re going to go take a shower and get dressed in real clothes. Scott and I are going to make dinner while you’re in there. Then we’ll have dinner like normal people at your table, and afterward, we’ll sit together and we can talk, or just get drunk, or play cards or whatever it is you need, but you’re not going to spend another night in here alone wasting away. Are we clear?”

Following Lydia’s demands would be easier than fighting against them, so Stiles shrugged his shoulders and acquiesced. He exited the shower to rich, hearty smells coming from the kitchen, and his stomach rumbled reminding him of the neglect he’d been showing his body.

He was quiet through dinner, letting the easy conversation between Scott and Lydia wash over him. And as much as he hated to admit it - it felt better than just being wrapped in a blanket, crying on his couch. When he’d finished eating, he moved to take his dishes to the sink, but Scott stopped him.

“I’ll get it, no worries, Stiles,” he said, effectively stopping Stiles’ protests. Scott rinsed the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, finding the soap under the sink and starting the dishwasher while Lydia coaxed Stiles over to the living room, placing him on the center cushion of his spacious couch, while she took his left side and curled into him.

“Can you bring us three beers, Scotty? There should still be plenty in the fridge.”

“Should still be?” Lydia responded, while Scott dutifully did as asked, popping off the lids before bringing them to rest on the coffee table in front of the couch and taking up Stiles’ other side.

“I’m an adult, Lyds, I’m allowed to drink.”

“Not if you’re drowning in it.”

“I’m not; I haven’t been. Sure, more than usual, but not outside of a normal time and not enough to make myself sick. Jesus, Lydia, with everything going on I think I’m allowed to have a few beers.”

“You are,” Scott cut in, “but what you aren’t allowed to do is cut out all the people in your life that care about you. Stiles, no one is expecting you to be at a hundred percent right now. But we aren’t going to watch you destroy yourself, either.”

Stiles sniffled at that, then started to apologize. “I know, I’ve been such a dick to you guys when you’re just trying to help. And I probably even owe Peter an apology. It just - it just _hurts_ ,” he blurted out, wrapping his arms around himself.

Even as he did so, Lydia and Scott wrapped him in a warm hug in tandem. 

“We know, Stiles. We know it hurts. That’s why we’re here,” Lydia whispered in his ear. 

As Stiles started to cry once again, the gratefulness he felt for his friends and his father once again filled his heart, and he spent most of the night trying to talk through everything he was feeling. True to their words, Scott and Lydia sat there through all of it, only interrupting him when he got really self-deprecating.

Stiles didn’t feel like he deserved their support, in the same way that he didn’t feel like he deserved love, but he was so tired of fighting and putting up a front. He let their love for him wash over him, and resolved to do better.


	4. I'm Never Gonna Love Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Cowboy Like Me" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Thank you again for the continued positive feedback on this fic! I'm honestly having a blast writing it. That being said, I know this update is a bit shorter than the others and more of a filler, but I promise it sets up some important ideas going forward. The next chapter is going to be pretty bulky with what I have planned for it - I'm hoping to still get it posted on the 26th, but as I've said from the beginning, I can't make any promises. Also, this chapter and beyond is where this fic really starts to earn its Explicit rating, just as a heads-up.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for listening to my rambling and I hope you all enjoy the new update! <3

Scott and Lydia coming over that night hadn’t fixed everything, but it had been a start. Slowly - too slowly for Stiles’ liking - he found his way back to himself. He was eating again (most days), and spending time with his friends, and had finally invited his dad over for dinner, and had met his commission deadlines for the time being.

Stiles felt like bit by bit, he was getting his life back. And it took time - much more time than he had been willing to give himself originally. He was remembering that he was young - only 26 - and that the end of his life with David was far from the end of his life. He had space and time to grow and explore, and he was going to do that. He was going to take his life back into his own hands, and he didn’t need to be in a relationship to do it.

At one point, Scott had innocently suggested going out to a club, trying to get Stiles laid or more, but Stiles found himself vehemently rejecting the idea. He simply wasn’t interested in jumping into bed - or into an actual relationship - with anyone. Sure, he missed the dynamics that he’d had with David, but he also knew he wasn’t ready to commit to that again yet. 

He found himself walking around more than just between his apartment and studio; exploring the city even though it had been his home for years. The exercise, the warm sunshine on his face, all helped. It didn’t ‘fix’ him, not that he was broken, but he found himself enjoying those moments just as much as he took solace in time spent with his friends. 

Stiles had realized he had more energy than he’d had in a long time, and found himself seeking out a gym membership. He’d been pleasantly surprised when the hot guy at the desk had offered him his number after he’d finished the paperwork to sign up, but declined. The guy - Danny - was objectively attractive, but he wasn’t exactly Stiles’ _type_ and Stiles was resolute that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. He did take him up on the offer to be his workout partner if he happened to be free when Stiles stopped in.

If nothing else, Stiles certainly wasn’t going to turn down making a new friend. And that wasn’t just true for Danny, either.

After Scott and Lydia had started helping him out of his funk, Lydia had taken him to task for how rude he’d been to his neighbor, Peter. Reflecting on it, Stiles realized he really had taken all his frustration with David out on the man, who had nothing at all to do with it. Sure, Peter had been flirty and confident and a little pushy, but he’d shown nothing but care for Stiles. And as much as he didn’t want to think about it, had Stiles been in any other headspace, he would’ve appreciated those first three traits a whole lot.

So he’d swallowed his pride, baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies from his mother’s recipe, and knocked on Peter’s door late one evening.

“Stiles?” Peter opened the door with an arched eyebrow, clearly surprised to see the younger man at his door.

Stiles blushed under his gaze, shuffling his feet before blurting out, “I’m sorry. I was a total dick to you when you weren’t doing anything wrong. My pity party isn’t your problem.”

Peter’s face relaxed into a smile. “We’ve all been there. I appreciate the apology, though. Maybe we can start fresh?”

Stiles met his eyes, and found nothing but sincerity there. “I’d really like that. Here - I made you cookies. I hope you like them.”

Peter had taken the container with another smile, and after more non-hostile conversation, Stiles had headed back to his apartment, considering the matter dealt with. However, he didn’t stop seeing Peter as frequently as he had before, and it seemed that the man always had time to talk to him. They often left around the same time for work, Stiles heading to the studio and Peter to the office.

Stiles found that he didn’t mind. Sure, it still bothered him a bit that Peter seemed to put up such a strong front, but every once in a while he got a glimpse of a truly kind man. He couldn’t fully deny that he was attracted to Peter, but he still didn’t want to do anything about it. Besides, the older man was _way_ out of his league, and Stiles knew that his teasing was nothing but that.

It had been a week and a half since Stiles’ full-on meltdown before his schedule and his dad’s aligned that they could have dinner at his place. He went down the stairs to let his dad in the building, pulling the older man into a one-armed hug as was customary for the Stilinski men. 

“Good to see you, son,” his dad said, squeezing his shoulder once before letting go and following Stiles into the stairwell.

“It’s good to see you too, dad. It’s been too long.”

“It always is.” Stiles smiled at his dad’s response - he was so glad that some things never changed, and that he and his father had always remained so close. 

He unlocked his door as soon as they’d reached it, ushering his dad inside where he had rice and stir fry ready to be dished from the stovetop. His dad grumbled good-naturedly about the abundance of vegetables Stiles was planning on feeding him, but had a genuine smile on his face looking at the home-cooked meal. 

Stiles asked his dad to grab a beer for both of them from the fridge while he readied their plates, and within minutes they were digging into the meal, enjoying each other’s company in companionable silence as they ate.

Occasionally, Stiles would interject to ask his dad how things had been at the station, how Scott’s mom Melissa was doing. His dad would answer and ask his own questions about Stiles’ work, about Scott and Allison and Lydia, but not about Stiles himself - not yet, anyway.

After they’d finished eating, Stiles placing the dishes in the sink to be taken care of later, his dad gave up and started the interrogation.

“So are you finally going to tell me the whole story of what happened with you and David? And don’t tell me that it’s none of my business, or that you’re fine. I know you better than that, kiddo.”

Stiles ducked his head, knowing that this had been coming but feeling unprepared to answer nonetheless. “I don’t know, dad, it just - “

He was cut off by a knock at his front door. Stiles jumped to his feet immediately - “Hold that thought, pops,” - and moved to answer the door, grateful for the break in the conversation, but not knowing what to expect.

He certainly wasn’t expecting to open the door to see Peter, the empty container that had held Stiles’ peace offering in his hands. 

“Good evening, Stiles. I just wanted to stop by and return your container. I didn’t realize you had company, though.”

“No worries, thank you for bringing it back, Peter. This is my father, Sheriff John Stilinski,” Stiles introduced them, noticing that his dad had come to stand behind him after he answered the door.

“Yes, we’ve met,” Peter replied, which took Stiles by surprise, “How are you, Sheriff?”

“Doing well, Mr. Hale. I didn’t realize you knew my son,” Stiles couldn’t glean anything from his father’s tone either, and he was feeling incredibly lost.

Peter turned on what Stiles had dubbed his Charming Face. “I didn’t realize Stiles was your son, or I would’ve asked him to pass on my regards. I live next door.”

Whether that surprised his dad or not, Stiles still couldn’t tell, but he couldn’t take the awkward silence between the three men for much longer either.

“Well, thanks for stopping by, Peter. I’m sure I’ll see you later. Have a good night!” Stiles interjected, trying to sound bright, and failing miserably.

Peter’s smile shifted into something softer, and he bid Stiles and his father both a good night, John returning the favor before Stiles shut the door to Peter’s retreating back. They made their way back to Stiles’ sofa, where Stiles turned the tables and started interrogating his father instead.

“How do you know my neighbor? He’s not, like, a former criminal or something is he? And what was that between you guys, acting all weird?”

John held his hands up in a gesture trying to calm his son, overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. “Nothing like that, son. Yes, I know him through work, no I can’t tell you the details, and no he isn’t a criminal. Peter’s not my favorite person in the world, but he’s a good man, Stiles. Don’t think this is going to get you out of talking about how you’re doing now, either.”

Stiles slumped, caught out. “Okay, I kind of lost it for a bit. But Scott and Lydia bailed me out, and I’m doing better now. I’ve been productive at work, and I’ve been talking to you and those guys. And honestly, I’ve been making friends in other places too - Danny at the gym, Peter next door. I can’t say I’m okay with everything that happened with David, or how it ended. Maybe I won’t ever be. But I’m a whole lot more than my last relationship.”

“I’m proud of you, son. I know I said it before, but I want you to know that I mean it. Your mother would be proud, too. You’re a good man, Stiles.”

Stiles and his father both ignored the tears that they had welling up, settling on sharing soft smiles with each other instead. They talked for a while longer, Stiles detailing some of the more painful memories he had of his time with David, and his shocking behavior at the end of their relationship. Mostly, though, they sipped their beers and shared stories about other things that had happened since they’d last seen each other.

Eventually, John stretched and yawned, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Well, I’m glad we were able to do this, kid. Call me more often, yeah?”

Stiles smiled as he stood. “Of course I will. Take care of yourself, old man. Love you.”

“Love you too,” the Sheriff responded, giving Stiles a full hug before heading toward the door.

Stiles watched his retreating form until he disappeared into the stairwell, then shut and locked his door. He felt lighter somehow, as if spending time with his dad had relieved some of the heavy burden he’d been carrying, and he resolved to keep his word and actually call more often.

After checking the time and seeing that it was only about 7:30 and he was still full of energy, Stiles decided to go get changed and head for a workout. He was grateful that the gym, The Loft, was open 24/7. Not that he intended on ever working out at 2:00 in the morning, but it was nice to know he could if he ever really wanted to. 

As he was heading out the door, he saw Peter exiting his own apartment.

“Hey Peter, same idea,” he smiled at the older man as they went to enter the stairwell. Peter had a gym bag slung over his shoulder, and though he still looked ten times as put together as Stiles felt, it was the most casual he’d seen his neighbor dressed.

Peter returned his smile. “It’s as good a way to work off energy before bed as anything else,” he responded.

Stiles took a moment to look Peter over, much in the same way that he often did to Stiles. And he was appreciative of what he saw - Peter was in impressively good shape for a man his age. Stiles knew his appreciation didn’t go unnoticed, a proud smirk firmly in place on Peter’s face when Stiles met his eyes again.

“Where do you usually work out? I just got a membership at The Loft, I’m hoping things will pan out well there. Maybe I could bulk up a little,” Stiles tried to diffuse the mild tension that had built, rucking up his shirt and sighing down at his lack of defined abs. 

He’d always had trouble putting on and keeping on weight, a side effect of the medication he’d been on to control his ADHD as a teenager. Thankfully it had gotten easier to manage over time, but his body had never truly adapted. He’d filled out a bit, but he still felt like he looked lanky and juvenile a lot of the time. It wasn’t the entire reason, of course, but it was certainly part of the reason that he kept his identity as Mischief a secret. The last thing he wanted was for the public to have his personal appearance to criticize along with his work. 

“That’s where my membership is as well. My nephew, Derek, is actually a manager there. We can at least walk together, and I’d happily spot you if you’re interested.” The last part of his sentence was punctuated by Peter looking over Stiles appreciatively, in the same manner that Stiles had just done to him. Stiles noticed his eyes focused on the soft skin of his stomach where he still had it exposed, dropping his hand with a blush as he realized how he’d had himself exposed longer than he’d thought.

“We’ll see - when I signed up I had someone else offer to work out with me if I needed a partner. But if Danny’s not around, then sure, it couldn’t hurt anything. Not sure that I help you much as a spotter, but I can do my best.”

Peter had seemed to tense a bit at the mention of Danny, but recovered quickly. “I’m sure we’d do just fine.”

They spent most of the walk discussing the merits of different routines. Stiles himself preferred cardio to weightlifting, with Peter preferring the inverse. He knew a lot more about how to build and keep muscle than Stiles did, even with some of the intense research he’d done before. Maybe with Peter’s help, he actually would bulk up a little.

Stiles didn’t know how the change occurred, exactly, but all of a sudden it seemed silly to refuse Peter’s company for his workout. So even though Danny was there, manning the desk, Stiles let him know he already had a spotter for the evening. Behind his back, Danny raised an eyebrow at Peter, who studiously ignored the younger man.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I need to stretch and then warm up on the treadmill before I even think about lifting. If you just want to get right to it, don’t let me stop you, though,” Stiles said to Peter, heading over to a corner where exercise mats were evenly spaced on the ground in front of a window.

He dropped down into an easy stretch, this part of things familiar for him. He didn’t turn, but he smiled to himself when he felt Peter stretch out on the mat next to him. As much as it had bothered him a bit at first, Stiles truly did enjoy the older man’s company. The pair of them chatted idly as they stretched, Stiles heading to a treadmill after about fifteen minutes, Peter moving toward the free weights for the time being.

After a warmup that steadily increased in intensity, Stiles moved over to where Peter was lifting an impressive amount of weight as if it was nothing. Torn between the urge to scoff and to ogle Peter’s muscles, Stiles decided to do neither but instead approach with a friendly smile.

“So, you have a circuit that we could work through?”

Stiles had thought it was an innocent question, but an hour later, he found himself regretting asking at all. Peter was absolutely ruthless, and seemed to have endless stamina. Stiles knew it was a cliche, but he felt like he’d exercised muscles he had no idea he possessed. 

As he toweled off, out of breath, he stared over at Peter in awe. “You barely broke a sweat, man. That was nothing at all to you, was it?”

“It’s something I’ve been doing for quite some time now; I’m sure you’ll pick it up and give me a run for my money in no time at all.” Peter’s tone was teasing, but not cruel.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. You good to head back? I’m beat after all that.”

“Sure, we can walk back together. I hope I haven’t scared you off doing this altogether.”

“Definitely not,” Stiles smiled as they waved goodbye to Danny and started the walk back to their building, “If anything, you’ve encouraged me to put the effort in. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

With his last words, he jokingly shoved at Peter’s arm, realizing that the man truly was made of muscle. Peter didn’t seem to mind the contact, though, returning Stiles’ smile.

“Glad to hear it. I always prefer working out with a partner.”

“I can tell, you’re definitely a sadist.”

“Only when I’m asked nicely and it’s negotiated first,” Peter’s casual response came, knocking Stiles off-balance.

Peter caught him as he tripped over nothing, too caught off guard by Peter’s words to pay close enough attention to his surroundings. He said nothing, standing stunned for a moment. Peter was in the scene? Oh god, this was going to make things a hundred times worse for Stiles. He had just barely been able to admit to himself that he was admiring the man - this had the potential to be so much more. But he still knew he wasn’t ready, and besides, Peter wouldn’t want him back.

“Well, good to know you’re safe and responsible about it, at least,” Stiles finally replied to Peter’s concerned look as they started walking again.

Peter nodded. “Of course, I mean it’s the fundamental principle behind everything. Safe, sane, and consensual. If I hurt a partner of mine, it’s because we both want it, and for nothing else.”

Stiles blushed and was quiet, which led Peter to the wrong conclusion. 

“I’m sorry, Stiles, that was inappropriate of me. Forget I said anything,” Peter blurted out, the most uncomposed Stiles had heard him.

“No! No, not uncomfortable at all. It’s just, ah, refreshing to hear. Not everyone has the same passion and level of care that you seem to.”

This appeared to appease Peter, his smile coming back and nervous demeanor vanishing. “Well, like I said, it’s important.”

The rest of their walk was spent mostly in silence, Stiles groaning about how sore he was a few times, with Peter jabbing back at him good-naturedly. They parted ways with a simple goodnight, Stiles essentially dropping Peter off at his door before continuing down to his own apartment. 

He put his sweaty clothes in the hamper, desperate for a shower. The warm water felt amazing, soothing his sore muscles as he stretched and cleaned his body. As he thought about working out, his blood flowing, he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal in his lower belly. And as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t avoid the fact that Peter was at the forefront of his mind as he took himself in hand.

The man carried himself with such steely authority, yet he was kind and personable as he interacted with Stiles. There was a sense of power about him and it sent a thrill through Stiles to think about having all that intense focus on him.

It had been long enough that it took little time for Stiles to come with a cry, spilling white over his fist and the shower tiles, washing away almost immediately. He instantly felt guilty - objectifying his neighbor was weird, no matter how hot he was - and he vowed that he wouldn’t do it again.

Even as his more explicit thoughts about Peter faded, though, Stiles couldn’t get the man out of his head. He couldn’t deny that their companionship was meaningful to him - building on the strong friendships he already had and feeling like his life was blossoming with new opportunities. Yet, Stiles felt there was a potential for more between them.

His insecurity about his looks warred with the obvious attention that Peter had paid him, Stiles deciding that it didn’t matter in the end since he wasn’t looking for anything. Still, he couldn’t ignore the fact that Peter checked quite literally all of his boxes, knowing what he knew after Peter’s slip-up earlier. 

Stiles knew he wasn’t ready for another relationship, that he wasn’t ready to commit and fall in love and get hurt again. But he was itching for the steadiness that came with his submission, and with being the object of someone’s affections. 

Things were truly coming together for him, but he couldn’t deny there was something missing. And as he thought about the friendship he was building with Peter, he thought the potential was there. Maybe - just maybe - he would be able to bring himself to talk to the older man about it. 

Stiles stretched out once more, fresh pajamas making him feel cozy as he got into bed. His energy had been sapped by dinner with his dad and then the intense workout, and he felt thoughts of Peter drift away quickly as he settled down to sleep. If anything was to be done about approaching Peter, it wasn’t going to be done that night.


	5. Call Me Babe for the Weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from " 'Tis the Damn Season" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Thank you all once again (and always) for your support! Here is the promised update (and on time to boot). <3 <3 <3

Though he had started thinking about approaching Peter about the potential of scening together, it took Stiles a long time to make an actual plan and execute it. He’d spent time working, hanging out with his friends, and actually getting to know Peter. They’d continued working out together when their schedules allowed it, and over the course of a few weeks, Stiles felt like he was in the best physical shape of his life as well as in a much better mental state.

He’d come to learn that Peter had always lived in the area, originally being from Beacon Hills as Stiles himself was, which was how he knew Stiles’ father. But when he’d finished school and decided to practice law, it had made sense for him to move into the neighboring city. While he enjoyed the hustle and rush of city life, he admitted to sometimes missing the small town, much in the same way that Stiles himself felt.

They started spending more time together in general, sometimes sharing dinner before or after a trip to the gym, and Stiles saw through the mask that Peter presented more and more. He was all poise and charm all the time, but Stiles saw a man who had clearly experienced pain, and was blocking parts of himself off to keep them safe. He could relate.

The comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed made Stiles confident enough to approach Peter late one afternoon, practically just after the older man had come home from work. He truly considered the older man a friend, at this point, and was confident that even if Peter shot him down he wouldn’t lose this entirely. And that was important - Stiles was still fragile, though he was better, and he wasn’t ready to lose the closeness that he’d gained with his neighbor.

Still, he headed down the hall with his head held high, and knocked on Peter’s door about half an hour after he usually got back from the office. Peter opened the door incredibly quickly, almost as if he’d known Stiles was coming. It was a weird thing Stiles had noticed about Peter - his reflexes were crazy fast. Peter claimed to just have incredible eyesight and hearing, but it still caught Stiles off-guard occasionally.

“Hey, Peter. Do you have any plans for dinner?”

Peter smiled at him. “Hi, Stiles. Not at the moment, I am free. Why, did you want to do something?”

Stiles shuffled a bit, not necessarily out of nerves, but out of the excess energy he had in him. 

“Yeah, if you want we could go out to dinner or I could cook for us. Up to you - if we go out, it can be my treat.”

Peter stared at him for a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side as he considered Stiles’ words. It was almost as if he could still pick up on some of the nerves Stiles had as he responded, “I’d love to come over for dinner. A quiet night in sounds much better than going out on the town.”

“Sounds good; come over in about 45 minutes, and I’ll have stuffed peppers ready?”

“I’ll bring a bottle of wine.”

“Oh, no need. If it’s what you’d like, feel free, but I’ll probably stick to water tonight.” Stiles had enough going on, the last thing he needed was to toss alcohol into the mix. And with what he was planning on approaching Peter about, sobriety would be a key. It wasn’t like he thought they’d jump into play that night, but it was always better safe than sorry. He knew it was too easy to say or do something he’d regret in any case, but especially if he was inebriated.

Peter gave him a gentle smile. “I won’t worry about it, then. See you shortly, Stiles.”

Stiles gave him an awkward little wave and backed away from the door so that Peter could close it, turning to head back toward his own apartment, heart rate elevated at the thought that he was really going to go through with this.

He’d already had the ingredients prepared and the oven preheated, because even if Peter had said no he would’ve just made the peppers for himself, or come back to clean up if Peter had wanted to go out instead. Stiles found it easier to prepare for all eventualities, having left the studio an hour earlier than he would have normally in order to get ready.

His eyes explored his apartment, making sure it was still in tip-top shape, as if it would’ve changed in the mere moments he’d been gone talking to Peter and then preparing the peppers and placing them in the oven. He also checked his own appearance, though he was somehow less worried about that. Peter had already seen him, and Peter had seen him much more disheveled than he currently was at the gym. While Stiles still wanted to look nice to approach him about this, he wasn’t worried about being pristine.

Peter did seem to be very particular, though, and Stiles wanted the setting to be perfect. It would be relaxed and intimate, better than the public setting that Stiles had offered even though his heart hadn’t been in it. He poured two glasses of ice water, placing them at the two table settings he had laid out for himself and Peter. 

He paced around the apartment, straightening up where it wasn’t needed, until the timer on the oven went off and he went to pull the peppers out to rest on the stovetop. As they were cooling a bit, the oven safely turned off, he heard a knock on the door. A quick glance at the clock showed that Peter had waited exactly 45 minutes to approach, which made Stiles smile inexplicably.

“Just a minute!” he called out, plating the peppers and setting the dishes in their proper place on the table. Satisfied that everything looked right, he tidied the counter and rushed over to the door.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans, palms a bit clammy from both the heat of the kitchen and his own building nerves. The door opened with ease, Peter stepping inside fluidly. Stiles thought he looked incredible - he’d traded in his suit from work for a more casual button-down and dark jeans that did _wonders_ for what was already a remarkable ass. Stiles caught himself with his jaw dropped, closing his mouth with a soft click as he shut the door and turned to face Peter who was looking at him expectantly.

“Hey Peter, thanks for coming over. Everything should be ready if you want to take a seat. Can I get you anything else to drink, or will water be okay?”

“Thank you for having me, it’s very kind of you. Water will be fine for me as well.”

The matter put to rest, Stiles waited for Peter to choose and take his seat before settling himself into the chair opposite. He awkwardly shuffled his utensils around, staring down at his plate. He could practically feel Peter’s intense stare on him, but didn’t quite feel like he could face it.

“Well, it’s nothing gourmet, but it’s an old, reliable recipe,” Stiles forced himself to say, looking up with a smile.

Peter returned it with much more ease. “It smells wonderful, Stiles, thank you for cooking. How was the rest of your day?”

The casual question helped Stiles to relax just a fraction, and he took a deep breath before launching into a detailed explanation of his day, only leaving out enough specifics to conceal his true profession, which he still hadn’t disclosed to Peter. The older man listened with rapt attention as they both dug into their meals, asking clarifying questions occasionally, before sharing as much as he could about his own workday, barring client details that would breach confidentiality. 

After their dinner plates were clear, Stiles went to rise to put the plates in the sink, but Peter reached out and held Stiles hand down to the table, indicating that he wanted him to stay for a moment. Peter didn’t let go of his hand, though, as he arched an eyebrow and asked the question Stiles had been waiting for: “Not that tonight wasn’t absolutely lovely, because it was, but can I ask what prompted this, Stiles? We’ve had dinner before, but not like this, and I have to say you seem awfully nervous. Is there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

Trust Peter to see right through him - if Stiles didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the man had some kind of superpowers with how easily he could read him. 

“Well, yeah, there is,” he started, sitting back down, which caused their hands to break apart. “It’s about something that you said after we went to the gym together that first time, while we were walking back here?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to be a little more specific than that; we’ve talked about a lot walking home from the gym.”

Stiles could feel his cheeks flushing, face turning red with mild embarrassment at raising the issue at all. “I, uh, called you a sadist? And you said, ‘Only when you’re asked nicely and it’s negotiated first’. And I, well, wanted to negotiate. Not sadism! Not that specifically, at least, but I guess what I’m really asking is if you’d be interested in being play partners?”

Peter seemed stunned, something Stiles hadn’t seen in the man before. He looked thoughtful, and Stiles’ mind immediately jumped to the worst - Peter was clearly going to reject him, and he was just trying to figure out what the nicest way to say it would be. Stiles braced himself for the blow, but it didn’t come.

“I would be honored, Stiles. As you’ve mentioned, we would need to negotiate and talk about things, but I’m willing to do that with you.”

It was Stiles’ turn to appear stunned, his mouth hanging open just a bit. After bracing himself for rejection, the unexpected response from Peter caught him off guard. “You - really?”

Peter let out a little laugh. “Well, yes. I don’t think I’ve ever hidden it that I find you attractive, Stiles. And if this is something you want to pursue, then I’m certainly interested. Would I be right to assume you just wanted to introduce the topic tonight, but you’re not ready just yet to have a more in-depth conversation about it?”

Stiles nodded in response, his eyes not leaving Peter’s face.

“Well, then I’ll help you get everything cleaned up from dinner. I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

The simple show of respect for Stiles’ boundaries confirmed in him that he was making the right choice, so he smiled and nodded once again to show he was accepting Peter’s help. They cleared the table and did the dishes in companionable silence, the task not taking more than a few minutes. 

“Maybe we could talk more in-depth this weekend? Are you free on Saturday?”

Peter paused in thought as he dried his hands, as if running through his schedule in his mind to make sure that it would work out. He seemed to come to a happy conclusion, a wide smile stretching across his lips as he set the towel down on Stiles’ counter.

“I am, and I would love to. Perhaps we could have dinner again, and I could cook this time? If you’d be more comfortable over here, we can eat here, or we could eat in my apartment. I’ll leave it up to you.”

“I’d be happy to come over; thank you for the suggestion, Peter. Also, do you have a kink survey or list of limits up to date? If not, that would probably be a good idea. I was planning on completing one and bringing it with me, if you’re okay with that.”

“That’s a good idea, Stiles. Thank you for bringing it up. It’s been a while since I completed one, but I’m happy to do so, and then we can review together with no pressure.”

Stiles smiled in response to Peter’s easy acceptance of his request. “Well, great. Thank you for being cool about this - I know I kind of ambushed you, but if I’m being honest, it’s been on my mind for a while now.”

Peter’s tone was teasing as he replied, “Oh, really? Have I had you all hot and bothered, Stiles?”

Stiles swatted at his arm. “Knock it off, there’s no need to brag. Of course you have - you have seen yourself before, right?”

“Trust me, Stiles, I think I’ll be getting the better end of any deal we make, here. But it’s always good to know that you appreciate me - a little ego boost never hurt anyone.”

With a fond roll of his eyes, Stiles stepped forward into Peter’s personal space, placing his hands on his sides tentatively, then meeting his eyes as if to ask if it was okay. Peter responded by gathering him close in a warm embrace that Stiles immediately melted into.

They stood like that for a peaceful moment, simply enjoying the comfort that came from intimate contact. Peter pulled back, just a bit, to put one finger under Stiles chin and tilt his head up. His eyes asked a question, and Stiles didn’t hesitate before nodding and closing his eyes once more when he felt Peter’s lips meet his own.

There was more of that electric feeling between them that Stiles had first sensed when his hand touched Peter’s for the first time, but it felt like it had been dialed up to 100. They traded kisses, mostly brushes of lips, until Stiles’ hand left Peter’s waist and moved up to cup his cheek as he pulled back.

“So, I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Stiles.”

Stiles could sense the sincerity in Peter’s words, and it brought an even bigger smile to his face as he walked Peter over to the door and bid him a goodnight. Once the door was closed, he let out a giddy laugh and did a small victory dance that he absolutely would’ve denied if anyone else had seen it. A weight felt as if it had been lifted from his shoulders, and his nerves were released.

Peter had said _yes_. Of course, that didn’t mean it was a sure thing if their interests didn’t align, and either of them could back out at any time, but Peter _wanted_ him. Stiles had forgotten just how exhilarating it was to be wanted and desired in such an honest way. But Peter had said it with his words, and his actions, and it thrilled Stiles to the core.

He took himself in hand in bed that night, just as he’d done several times over the previous days, and fantasized about Peter. He could imagine all of it so easily - it was like they fit together perfectly, at least in his fantasies - him on his knees for Peter, underneath him on a bed, _above_ him on a bed, Peter’s hands firm and greedy when it was right and gentle and guiding when that was right, too. 

Stiles gave into the urge and reached over to his nightstand for the tube of lubricant he kept there, slicking up two of his fingers right away and reaching down to start rubbing them insistently against the taut skin of his hole. He had plenty of fantasies about Peter, and several of them revolved around the man’s hands. Peter had perfect hands - broad palms and thick fingers, lightly dusted with hair on the outer side - and Stiles wanted those hands all over him; wanted those broad palms holding his cheeks open while Peter split him open, wanted those thick fingers deep inside him as Peter got him ready for his cock.

He finished toying with himself and slipped a finger inside, moving it frantically as he wanted to stretch himself open and move things along. He pressed a second finger in as soon as he felt like he could handle it, and resumed stroking his cock with his other hand, now also slick with lube.

The sensations were so _good_ , and Stiles lost himself to it, moaning out a fervent, “Peter!” as he came all over his knuckles, his hole pulsing around his own fingers. His body remained tensed for a moment, then with a single exhale he collapsed on the bed. He took a moment to catch his breath before shuffling to the bathroom to clean himself up, hopping in the shower and letting the warm water rinse over him. The shower was short, Stiles feeling the emotional and physical exhaustion of the day take over.

He dropped heavily into bed and closed his eyes with a smile on his face - sweet dreams were practically guaranteed. Peter had said _yes_.

Of course, one amazing night wasn’t enough to fully nip Stiles’ anxiety in the bud. The next days had been a tumultuous journey of excitement and nerves. Half of the time Stiles wanted to call the whole thing off, and the other half of the time he wanted to knock on Peter’s door and jump his bones.

Stiles threw himself into his work, taking on more than he normally would’ve as he worked through his abundant energy. Commissions captured his attention, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander into other arenas as well. It had been some time since he’d had a show in a gallery, and his creativity seemed to be boundless. He sketched ideas halfheartedly, saving everything to approach Lydia with later. He knew she’d be thrilled - as much as she loved him as a friend, his lack of public presence made her job harder, and any time he showed enthusiasm for the parts of his job that coincided with hers, it made things easier between them.

He and Peter only managed to go the gym once, on Thursday night, and Peter had to have noticed that Stiles was a little more withdrawn in their interactions than usual, focusing more on pushing his physical limits than participating in their typical banter. He kindly said nothing about it, bidding Stiles a perfectly normal farewell as he reached his own apartment door.

Time seemed to both fly by and drag on simultaneously, but nevertheless, Saturday did finally arrive. Stiles had a text from Peter in the late morning hours that simply read, _Dinner at six?_.

**Sure - I’ll be there! Need me to bring anything?**

_I’ve got it covered. Just bring yourself - and your sheet. I’ll see you tonight, Stiles. :)_

After taking a moment to die at Peter typing out the smiley face like that - it was just so _him_ \- Stiles responded.

**I’ll be there with bells on.**

Even with all the cleaning he’d done earlier in the week, Stiles had to put his nervous energy somewhere, so he organized the apartment for most of the day. He forced himself to go have lunch with Scott, but his friend could tell he was distracted, so they didn’t hang out for long. 

The evening snuck up on him, and he started getting ready to head over to Peter’s a full hour before he had to be over there. He dressed simply - once again wanting to impress, but knowing that Peter would see right through him if he overdid it. Stiles donned a pair of fitted black slacks that he knew did wonders for his legs and ass and a crisp white button-down, tucked in neatly with a plain black belt pulling it together. He grabbed the checklist he’d filled out, details about his likes and dislikes and absolute hard limits staring at him in dark ink, and reviewed it one more time, even though he knew the information on it by heart.

There was so much he wanted to explore with Peter, and he was actually going to get the chance, if everything went well. Still, he tried to project an aura of calm. He was an adult, negotiating something both important and delicate with a dear friend, and it wouldn’t do to lose his head.

At three minutes to six, he gave in to the urge to exit his apartment and head down the hall. He used the momentum to bring his hand up to the door and knock. It took a moment for Peter to answer, which was unusual, but Stiles chalked it up to him being busy preparing their meal. He was a few minutes early, anyway.

Peter didn’t seem to mind, though, and he seemed _incredibly_ appreciative of the way Stiles was dressed.

“Please, come on in, Stiles. I’m just putting the finishing touches on dinner now.”

Stiles smiled and responded to the greeting, “Thank you, Peter. It smells lovely in here.” He glanced over to the stove, in a similar layout to his own kitchen, and noted what looked like beef tips in a rich sauce as well as separate dishes with mashed potatoes and green beans.

“It seems like everything’s turned out well. Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll just be a minute. Water to drink again alright with you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

True to his word, it was only a few moments before Peter had plates in front of both Stiles and himself, and glasses of water to the side. They enjoyed a nice, companionable dinner, and Stiles prided himself on keeping his composure even the whole time, ignoring the papers he’d set to the side on the table when he’d initially sat down.

As they’d done earlier in the week, he helped Peter scrub down the dishes and clean up from the meal. When they were done, he dried his hands and passed the towel over to Peter, leaning back against the counter and feeling Peter’s eyes on him.

“So, shall we take this to the living room for now?” Peter inquired, and Stiles’ heart raced at the idea of it being _for now_.

He nodded, not trusting his voice in the moment, and stepped over to the table before rounding the corner and dropping himself on Peter’s surprisingly comfortable couch. Peter sat down beside him, much more elegantly, and produced his own papers.

The first thing they covered were clean test results for the both of them, making sure they were both comfortable with being condomless while partnered. That taken care of, it was time to see how well-matched they were.

“So, how do you want to do this? Just exchange them for now, look at them both together?”

“Let’s do that,” Peter responded, laying his flat on the coffee table in front of them and indicating that Stiles should do the same.

While their sheets weren’t identical, the formats matched fairly similarly, and Stiles was pleased to note that they were aligned on several fronts. They had consistent hard limits - no permanent marks or body modification, no blood play, and no watersports or scat. That was all fairly standard, but part of what drew Stiles’ attention was that Peter also had public sex or play as a hard limit.

“Just to clarify - you’re not at all interested in scening at clubs, or anything like that? I’ve had previous partners who wanted it, but it’s not for me.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “For me, it’s twofold: first and foremost, this is very intimate and private. I don’t like the idea of strangers around - it wouldn’t allow me to get into the right headspace. And I’m certainly not one for sharing. Secondly, with my career, I do have to pay some consideration to my public reputation. While I’m not ashamed of being in the scene, I don’t want to deal with any negative repercussions of playing in public.”

“I can definitely understand all of that. Trust me, we’re in alignment there.”

“Well, that’s certainly good. With the big no-nos out of the way, I’d like to ask you for some clarification as well. You cover both seeing yourself as a sub and a little, looking for a dom and a daddy. I’ve played in both of those roles, no discomfort there, but they’re typically separate experiences. Could you expand a bit more on how that works for you?”

“For me, they can be separate, but they’re often related as well. I don’t really regress when I get little, I just desire more comfort, protection and guidance. All of those things are also traits I look for in a dom. You’ll note that I’m not a masochist, or particularly into bondage either. For me, service - going both ways - is the most fundamentally important part of any play. Sometimes if I’m feeling very little, or upset in that headspace, I won’t want to do anything sexual, but it’s not an issue most of the time.”

Peter nodded along, listening intently to Stiles explanation. “Thank you for elaborating, Stiles. I don’t have any issue with that - it may take me some adjusting, but you let me know if you’re getting what you need from me or not.”

“That goes both ways, too. This isn’t just about me.”

Peter smiled indulgently. “You’re right, Stiles, thank you. We’ll check in regularly, make sure everything is working for both of us. And speaking of check-ins, I’m also comfortable with the stoplight system for safewords. It takes any guesswork out of things.”

Stiles nodded. “That’s what I’m most comfortable with, no matter what headspace I’m in.”

“Wonderful. Now, let’s focus on what we both like. You mentioned service specifically - what are some of your favorite activities in a scene?”

“Kneeling, cockwarming, massage, handfeeding, and bathing are my main interests. I see that aligns fairly well for you, too.”

“It most certainly does, sweetheart. A few things that are important to me are marking, though I can keep it to a minimum if you’re uncomfortable with things like marks where others can see them, a lot of touch and contact, and mutual pleasure. While I understand providing service does give you pleasure, I’m not comfortable with scenes that feel too unbalanced.”

“I can definitely get on board with that,” Stiles smiled.

“Now - in terms of punishment, I know you mentioned you don’t enjoy pain, but is a mild spanking off the table?”

“Definitely not - I’m not okay with impact play with anything aside from your hand, even as a punishment, but since I don’t get off on it I can see why it would be an effective punishment. A few other things that work are being denied your pleasure, or being in any kind of long-term chastity.” He felt his nose wrinkle up as he even mentioned the last item, making Peter laugh lightly.

“Well, thank you for sharing that. I believe - unless you have any objections - that we’re compatible enough to give this a try. There is one more thing I need clarification on before we progress, though.”

Stiles made direct eye contact. “Of course, just ask me.”

“Do you also want us to be together, romantically? I won’t scene with more than one person at a time, and you mentioned exclusivity on here as well, but I wanted to be clear that I am interested in a romantic relationship with you as well, if you’d be willing to give it a try.”

Stiles hesitated for the first time since they’d started negotiating. “I’m not - I’m not ready for that yet, Peter. Don’t get me wrong - in the future, would I want that with you? I think so. But things are still a bit too raw for me. I trust you with this - with my body, and with me vulnerable. I just don’t want to commit something to you that I’m not ready to.”

Peter looked a bit sad, but nodded in understanding. “Of course - I’ll respect that. Just know if you ever change your mind…”

“I’ll be sure to let you know.”

With that, Peter leaned forward and connected their lips once in a fleeting kiss, pulling back almost immediately. Stiles let out a small whine and leaned forward, chasing the sensation, but Peter stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Not just yet, darling. Do you want to try anything? Right now?”

“Yes,” Stiles replied, “I want you, Peter. I want this.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Then is that what you call me?”

And fuck if the change wasn’t apparent in him, Peter’s already commanding presence feeling like it started to fill the room completely. “No, Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Much better.” Peter leaned in, wrapping one hand around the side of Stiles’ neck and anchoring the other at his hip. He kissed Stiles again, this time taking control of the kiss in a way that would’ve made Stiles’ knees weak if he’d been standing.

“How do you feel about kneeling for a bit while we watch a movie?”

“That sounds perfect, Daddy.”

“Then you sit tight and I’ll go get you a cushion.”

Peter was up and back in a flash with a cushy kneeling pillow, which he placed perfectly centered between his feet, looking at Stiles and then down at the cushion, indicating that he should drop down.

Stiles moved fluidly down, kneeling on the cushion with his back to Peter, whose hand immediately went to pet his head in praise. “Very good, Stiles, you look beautiful down there.”

Coming from anyone else, it may have sounded cheesy, but Peter sounded nothing but sincere, and the warmth in his voice seeped into Stiles. Stiles watched as the television turned on, Peter navigating to Netflix and selecting Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse. 

It was perfect - Peter hadn’t asked for Stiles’ input and caused him to worry about making a decision, but he’d chosen something he knew Stiles would enjoy. It also wasn’t exactly a kid’s movie - but it was familiar and comforting enough to allow Stiles to truly relax and sink down. Peter continued to play with his hair as the movie played.

He paused it just over halfway through, hand stilling in Stiles’ hair as the picture froze on the screen. ”How are you doing, sweetheart? Are you still comfortable, or do you need to shift things or get up?”

It took Stiles a minute to get his brain online enough to formulate a response, but he eventually replied, “Green - ‘s good, Daddy, please keep going.”

“Okay, baby, you just let me know if that changes.”

The matter decided, the movie resumed and Peter continued his ministrations. Stiles relaxed even more, feeling so content and _right_. Once the movie was over, he got part of the way up in a stretch, then turned so he was facing Peter, still in his kneeling position, and rested his head on Peter’s thigh.

“Did you want something, sweetheart?” Peter asked with a note of fond exasperation in his voice.

Stiles nodded, practically nuzzling into Peter’s crotch. “C’n I suck you off, Daddy?”

Peter inhaled sharply. “Of course you can, sweet boy. Be good and sit back a moment for Daddy.”

Stiles did as he was asked, not moving far but giving Peter enough space to open his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to his knees in one fluid motion. Had Stiles been a little bit more with it, he would’ve gasped or remarked on Peter’s size, but in the state he was, he just moved forward, planting a kiss right on the tip before mouthing wetly down the side, trailing kisses over Peter’s length and his balls.

He continued his exploration for a moment, watching as Peter started to harden under his attention. Looking up at the older man, he took just the tip of Peter’s cock into his mouth and started to suckle, which caused Peter to groan.

“You’ve got a beautiful mouth, Stiles. Please, please give me more.” Peter sounded so wrecked already, and they’d barely started. It made Stiles feel so powerful.

He continued taking more and more of Peter into his mouth, not taking too long before Peter reached his full hardness and Stiles started to have trouble reaching the base of it. Peter didn’t force him, though, just gently cupped the back of his head in support and moaned out his praises of just how _good_ Stiles was making him feel.

After several moments, Peter’s hand tensed, and he groaned out a warning that he was about to come. The words only made Stiles suck harder, bringing up a hand to fondle Peter’s balls as his cock jerked jets of come down Stiles’ throat. 

Peter pulled Stiles up into his lap as soon as he’d recovered, pushing the younger man’s pants down in the same hasty fashion he’d removed his own. He buried his face in Stiles’ neck, leaving a dark mark behind as he jerked Stiles off with firm strokes. Stiles had been hard as a rock just from being on his knees from Peter, so it wasn’t long before he cried out - “Daddy!” and shot his load over Peter’s hand and his still shirt-covered stomach. 

He sunk down, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. “That was perfect,” he muttered, feeling more than hearing Peter’s chuckle.

“Yes, it was. I think this will work out just fine, darling. Just fine.”

After they’d cuddled on the couch for what felt like hours, but was truly about half an hour in total, Peter urged Stiles to get up so they could clean up. Once Stiles was steady on his feet, he leaned in and gave Peter a firm kiss.

“I may have been a bit out of it, but I wasn’t wrong - that was perfect, Peter. For next time, I could get myself ready and maybe you could fuck me?”

Peter chuckled. “You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Well, it’s no hardship for me. Just stop by, or text or call me, since you have my number. We can plan for something.”

Peter kissed him once again, insisting on walking Stiles back to his apartment even though it was just down the hall, and kissed him again as a goodbye at Stiles’ door.

It was only two days later that Stiles found himself back in Peter’s apartment. This time, he was fully naked and on his back as Peter rocked steadily into him. He felt loose and limbless after they’d exchanged massages in Peter’s luxurious bed. His eyes were closed, his head laid back on a pillow that felt like a cloud, as he let himself be fully consumed by the sensations of Peter’s hands on him and his cock inside of him.

After a particularly sharp thrust to his prostate that had him crying out, Stiles moved to warn Peter that he was about to come. He looked up to meet Peter’s eyes, words on the tip of his tongue, and found Peter’s red, _glowing_ eyes trained on where they were joined together.

In a panic he raised his hands up, pushing at Peter’s arms to get the man off of him. “Red! Holy shit, red, your eyes are red. Peter? What the fuck? Why are your eyes red?”

Immediately upon hearing the safeword, though he wasn’t sure if it was a safeword or just Stiles’ shock at the color of his eyes, Peter moved off of him. His eyes shifted back to their usual crisp blue. “Are you okay? Stiles, did I hurt you?”

“No, you didn’t fucking hurt me, but you sure as shit have some explaining to do. What _are_ you?”

Peter frowned. “Promise to try not to freak out?”

Stiles’ heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. “Kind of a little late for that, but I can try.”

Peter’s whole face transformed, growing ridged as his eyes flared red once more. Stiles watched in fascination and horror as he seemed to grow, and claws came out of each of his fingertips. When he opened his mouth to speak, there were fangs where there _definitely_ had not been fangs before.

“I’m a werewolf,” he managed to say, slurring a bit around the extra teeth. He managed to look sheepish as a terrifying creature of the night, which was really what pushed Stiles over the edge.

Stiles took it all in, buried his head in his hands, and started to laugh hysterically.


	6. Left You Out There Standing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Champagne Problems" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Cutting it close on this one. Sorry y'all - work has been a nightmare lately and it's also midterms for my grad program, so I'm trying to keep up with this fic, but it's getting harder. The two feet of snow we got here in the last few days didn't help either haha. In any case, thanks for sticking by this fic and I will continue to do my best to post on time weekly! Much love <3

Looking back on it, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever gone soft or gotten dressed so fast in his life. Sure, he’d stayed to hear Peter out, but ultimately walked back to his apartment as steadily as he could while he reevaluated his entire outlook on the world.

_Werewolves_. Werewolves were real - and the man he’d been sleeping with was living proof. It was more than enough to shake Stiles, especially with how fragile he still was after everything with David. He wasn’t having trouble believing it was real - Peter had proven _that_ beyond a doubt. But it was still terrifying to learn that there was an entire world - an entire supernatural world - existing right beside him, existing within his own world, and he’d had no idea.

The same, however, could not be said for everyone in his life. Stiles had a lot of questions, and Peter had answers, but he let slip a lot more than Stiles thought he had intended to. He’d explained about packs - alphas, betas, omegas - and how it tied into his family structure. How he wasn’t originally intended to be an alpha, but had become one while defending his pack from another, which had caused him to have to be more separated from his family and original pack than was normal. 

That had caused Stiles to ask another question - could someone _become_ a werewolf? And maybe Peter hadn’t meant to say it, considering the way he froze after the words passed his lips, but nevertheless he’d replied, _”Yes, in cases like Scott’s where there’s an illness, an alpha werewolf can bite a human and turn them.”_

Of course it wasn’t enough that his neighbor and new friend was a werewolf, of course his best friend of like, all time had to be one as well. And it’s not that Stiles was angry that either of them were werewolves - he was just sick of being left out of the loop, and lied to. Scott had said that he’d responded well to an experimental treatment, which is why his asthma that had left him hospitalized winter after winter was finally gone. 

When Stiles had expressed that, it had gone from bad to worse. The supernatural had to be kept a big secret because there were also supernatural hunters - primarily, the Argents. As in Allison, Scott’s wife, also knew about werewolves because she’d been raised to hunt them. Apparently she and her father had decided they wanted to focus on protection and keeping the balance and peace instead of hunting wolves for sport, like the rest of Allison’s crazy family. Who had tried to kill Peter and his entire family by starting a house fire that had luckily not succeeded - due to Stiles’ father intervening at the last moment.

So, sure. Peter was a werewolf, and so was Scott, and Allison was a werewolf hunter, but if that wasn’t enough, his dad knew too. All these people in his life had what felt like an entire, second secret life that he knew nothing about.

After sarcastically asking Peter if anyone else he knew was in the know, Peter winced and responded, _“Lydia? The redhead who visited you with Scott? She’s dating my niece, Cora, and I believe she found out about a year ago.”_

Sitting alone in his apartment, Stiles could hardly believe it. Not that werewolves were real - he could believe that - but he couldn’t process how all the important people in his life were deeply embedded in the supernatural community and he’d had no idea at all. Were they all laughing at him? Surely not, his reasonable mind provided, but he couldn’t help from feeling like the butt of a bad joke.

Without his permission, his hands moved and he was calling his father from his cell phone before he could even process what he was doing.

“Stiles? What’s going on kiddo? I’m at work.”

“Tell me that werewolves aren’t real.”

There was a pause, Stiles’ ire growing with every second that his father was silent. Finally, he let out a heaving sigh. “Aw hell, Stiles. Did he finally tell you?”

“Well, he didn’t so much tell me as his eyes glowed red while we were being - intimate, but…”

“Wait a second, _Peter_ told you? Not Scott? And what exactly do you mean you were being intimate with Peter Hale of all people - “

Stiles cut his father off just as abruptly as his father had cut him off before. “Who I’m sleeping with? Really not the issue here. The supernatural being real? Could we get back to that?”

John sighed again. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Stiles, but it’s real. I saw plenty of things that I couldn’t explain as a deputy, but when I became sheriff, they told me the truth. Peter’s sister, Talia, is the primary alpha here in Beacon Hills. Between crazy supernatural occurrences and hunters - sanctioned and not - they like to keep local law enforcement in the loop.”

“Yeah, it seems like everyone is in the loop. Except, you know, me,” Stiles hated that he could hear the way he sounded a bit bratty as he spoke to his father, but he wasn’t willing to give this up. It was too big to just let go.

“I know, Stiles, but it’s important for protection. Both for them - and for you. It definitely puts you in more danger to know.”

“How? I was around all of these people anyway. How was it any safer that I didn’t know about all the threats out there?”

And fundamentally, that was it. Stiles could understand protection - but he would’ve been safer knowing. At the end of the day, it felt like he just wasn’t trusted, just wasn’t good enough to be included. It was irrational, some part of him knew, but he’d just found out that fairy-tale creatures were real and his life was full of them. He figured he was allowed a little bit of a break.

“I know, Stiles. It’s a fine line but it’s an important secret to keep. Whatever happens - no matter how angry you are with me or Peter or Scott - it’s important that you keep this safe.”

Stiles scoffed. “Of course I will. It’s not like anyone rational would believe me anyway. But I’m glad to know you think so highly of me.”

“It’s not like that, son, I promise. Look, I have to go, but why don’t we meet up soon and we can talk more? Plus, I think you should talk to Scott. It might help. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Stiles replied, still grumpy but never taking his father for granted. He wasn’t any less angry with the man, but he’d never push his father away like that. Not after everything they’d survived together.

Falling asleep that night was difficult. Coming out of a scene as hard as he had wasn’t ever fun, and he still felt out of sorts. He almost felt betrayed by the way he wanted Peter to hold and comfort him. They had finally settled and gotten close, Stiles had been brave and allowed him in, and here he was - hurt again. Sure, it wasn’t the same as David - not even _close_ \- but the suddenness and the lies were hard to write off.

He did manage to send a text off to Scott - a simple _Talk tomorrow?_ before laying in bed flat on his back, eyes open and mind moving a million miles a minute. He didn’t look at the response that his phone buzzed with, too wired to split his focus.

It meant that when he did crack his eyes open at his alarm the next day, he felt like absolute garbage. No amount of rest would’ve fixed Stiles’ situation, but he certainly didn’t feel any better for the terrible night of sleep he’d gotten. 

The first thing Stiles did was run through the previous day in his mind, confirming for himself that it was all true. He looked at his phone to see a text from Scott.

**meet you at the studio at noon? i can bring lunch**

_Sure, I’ll see you then_

He didn’t look to see if Scott replied, getting up and going to shower since he’d foregone it the night before. He grimaced at the feeling of lube, tacky and dry on his thighs, and at the reminder of what he’d been in the middle of when his world had come crashing down.

He packed a bag for the gym after he was out of the shower and dressed, figuring that after he got some work done and talked to Scott, some physical exertion would do him good. At the very least, it would hopefully take him out of his head a bit. At least, if Peter’s werewolf nephew wasn’t manning the desk. Stiles didn’t want to think about that, either.

Stiles didn’t see Peter on his way out, when he usually would, and it stuck out to him, but he remembered what Peter had said about his super-senses, and wondered if Peter was giving him the space he’d asked for. Or if it was just a coincidence. Either way, he was glad not to have to face the other man. He wasn’t ready for that yet.

The walk to the studio passed by in a blur, as did his morning. He didn’t get any work done on his side passion project, instead focusing on the small, finishing details of a few commissions to help keep him focused. It worked like a charm, thankfully, and he’d barely moved when he heard the door to the studio open, and two pairs of footsteps entering.

“Hey, Stiles!” he heard Allison’s friendly voice call out, and Stiles snorted a bit to himself. Of course Scott brought Ally as a shield - he was a great friend, but there were some things he wasn’t great at, and dealing with Stiles when he was upset with him was up there. Stiles could relate - he hated it when Scott was mad at him - but he dealt with it much more directly than his friend.

“Hi Ally, Scott,” he said, standing up from the painting he’d been working on, careful to set his supplies in good order to be taken care of later.

He turned toward the door to see Ally smiling at him too brightly, and Scott looking sheepish.

“Hey Stiles! We brought lunch,” he finally stuttered out.

“Great. I’m sure you’re hungry. You know, like the wolf.”

Scott groaned. “I should’ve known you’d be prepped with jokes like that.”

“And I should’ve known you were a werewolf, but I guess we were both mistaken.”

The steel in Stiles’ tone snapped Scott out of his mildly awkward chuckle, making him look up at his best friend with wide eyes. 

“Peter gave us a heads up that you were taking the news pretty hard. I’m glad you texted Scott, though, it’ll be good to talk about things.” Allison made it all sound so damn reasonable, as she laid out lunch for the three of them at a spare table Stiles had, pulling various chairs and stools around it for them to take their seats.

It was hard to argue with Allison when she was being rational, so Stiles forced himself over to take a chair and to dig in to the sushi they’d brought. They sat in silence for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to break it. Luckily, Allison decided to take charge again.

“I thought my parents were crazy when they first told me about werewolves. I was fifteen - I hardly wanted to listen to them about anything. It definitely caught me by surprise. Then finding out that my family - hunted, in the way that they did. It was terrible. I was ready to run away from home. It was all just so overwhelming.”

“But my dad gave me time and space, and we talked, and I learned so much. I also learned that my family was totally psycho - at least, my mom, aunt, and grandfather. Watching that all go up in flames,” Stiles watched as she winced a bit at the wording, “Really made it settle in for me.”

“Thanks for telling me that, Ally. I do appreciate it. But it’s not werewolves being real that I’m struggling with - you get that, right?” He may have been responding to Allison, but he was looking right at Scott.

“Stiles, you have no idea how much I wanted to tell you, okay? It was this big, brand new thing in my life, and of course I wanted to share it with my best friend. But after everything that’s happened to the Hales, Talia - my alpha - swore me to total secrecy. Disobeying my alpha? I could’ve been thrown out of my pack. Did Peter explain to you what an omega was?”

Stiles nodded slowly, Peter’s explanation of a packless, feral werewolf and how dangerous they could be flashing in his mind.

“That’s what would happen to me if the Hales threw me out. So, I lied. It wasn’t right, man, and I know that, but it’s just as much about protecting you as it was about protecting them. I really thought it was the best; that it would keep you out of danger.”

“Everyone keeps saying that!” Stiles exploded, standing up. “I get that I’m just some weak human that you think you need to protect, but I thought I was more than that to you. And to my dad, and Lydia, and even you, Allison. All these people in my life keeping this massive secret - and what, you just want me to be okay with that? Well, I’m not!”

“I’m not okay with being lied to like that. I’m not angry that you’re a werewolf, Scott. It practically saved your life. I understand that you guys don’t hurt anyone - not unless you’re feral, or a piece of shit even if you were human. I know that hunters are a danger. But I’m your friend - your _family_ \- and I’ve been kept out of the loop for years. This isn’t just going to blow over.”

Scott looked horrified, like he hadn’t realized just how hurt Stiles was feeling. He’d probably thought that he was more freaked out about him being an actual fucking werewolf, not about the secrecy. In a vindictive way, Stiles was pleased. But the rest of him felt bad about seeing his best friend feeling like that, even if it was his fault.

“That’s fair, Stiles. What do you need from us?” Allison remained calm, an understanding smile on her face as she looked across the table at Stiles.

“Honestly? I think I just need time. It’s a lot to process. I’m not gonna blab or anything - I just need to let it all sink in. I’m sure I’ll have more questions, too. I threw a bunch of them at Peter yesterday, but I wasn’t exactly entirely with it at the time.”

They both nodded, Scott piping up, “Totally, dude. It doesn’t have to be a big thing, either, we can just have dinner or play COD or something and talk about it.”

Stiles levelled a look of surprise at him. “Nice sentiment, Scott, but the existence of the supernatural is, in fact, something we classify as a ‘big thing’. Look, I’m not telling you to fuck off and leave me alone or whatever, and I don’t want that from Peter or my dad or Lydia either. I just need some time to deal. I think that’s more than fair.”

“Of course it is, Stiles.” Stiles was really thankful for Allison, despite his initial ire at Scott bringing her along.

“Thanks for lunch, and for at least starting to talk through things. But could you guys head out? I need to clean up and go clear my head.”

“Sure thing man, whatever you need. Just tell us this time, ok?” Scott wrapped him in a hug, Allison placing a warm hand on his shoulder as they packed up the leftovers and left.

Stiles watched them go, not really feeling any better about the whole situation. Sure, he knew that they cared and loved him, which was important, but it still felt overwhelming. He’d still been lied to and left out for literal years - he meant what he said to Scott, that kind of thing didn’t just blow over because of a lunch or dinner, video games, or even the answers to all of his questions. It was something that was truly going to take time.

Still, he breathed a little easier as he cleaned up around the studio. At least he knew he wasn’t going to lose them or his dad over this. Things with Peter were still so uncertain - but he wasn’t ready to deal with that, yet, so he didn’t dwell on it.

At least, he tried not to dwell on it. Peter was the primary thing on his mind as he walked to the gym, as he approached the desk and saw Derek there, despite his earlier wishes that anyone else would be working. 

Stiles didn’t know what it was about the way he looked or approached, but Derek looked a bit spooked, as if he was afraid Stiles was going to lose his shit on him. Which, while Stiles still felt like losing his shit, he knew Derek didn’t deserve it. None of it was his fault, and Stiles could contain himself from blowing up on someone who really had nothing to do with the situation he was upset about, even if he was tangentially involved.

“Hi Stiles, anything I can do for you?” he still asked, customer service persona not wavering.

Stiles did his best to muster a smile, but Derek’s expression told him it remained more of a grimace. Oh well. “No thanks, Derek, I think I’m just going to work out solo today.”

Derek nodded. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Or Danny is in today as well - he’s just finishing up a break. I could send him over to you if you’d like.”

Stiles pondered that for a minute. Obviously he couldn’t share a lot with Danny, but he’d give him a better workout than he’d design on his own, and maybe he could at least vent a little bit to a party that was actually neutral in the whole thing. At least, as far as he knew. Stiles didn’t know if he even cared if Danny was a werewolf too - he just needed a bit of fresh perspective.

“Sure - that’d be good, thanks.”

Stiles got another nod in response, not surprising coming from the taciturn Derek, and moved over to the treadmill to stretch and warm up. He got a great jog in before Danny appeared in front of the machine, an eyebrow quirked up in question if Stiles was ready. He nodded, able to speak but not really wanting to bother after the cardio. He set the treadmill to cool down, taking a few more minutes and getting in more distance as he slowed to a walk and eventually got off of the stopped machine.

“Weights circuit today? Arms, legs, core, everything?”

“Hit me with everything, Danny. I need to tire myself out.”

Danny grinned. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

And he was right - the circuit that Danny led him through was _brutal_. If he’d thought working out with Peter was intense, this was another level entirely. Strike that, though, he was trying to think about anything but Peter.

As Danny moved above him to spot Stiles as he lifted on the bench, he must’ve seen something in Stiles’ expression that concerned him. After adding weight and getting Stiles started on his first set of reps, he decided to dive right in with a not-so-casual approach.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s wrong now, or do you want to wait until we’re done and you’ve showered, and I can tell Derek I need another break.”

It didn’t sound like a question, and it really wasn’t one. Stiles waited until the set was finished, bar set safely back in the rack, before he replied.

“Let’s finish this first. I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed to be tired out. My mind just won’t shut off, man.”

Danny nodded. “I get it. We’ll talk through it. For now, another set.”

Stiles groaned, but complied. It wasn’t working completely, but the physical exhaustion setting in did help. He went through three additional sets of bench presses before moving on, pushing himself harder and harder than he even thought possible. By the time he stood to do his last round of cardio, he felt like all of his limbs were limp noodles.

Danny smiled at him as he clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking Stiles over with the force of it, though it couldn’t have been any harder than normal. “Once you’re finished and showered, just head to the desk. Derek will let you in the back and let me know when you’re waiting.”

He walked off to correct the form of another man working out with a friend, and Stiles focused on finishing his workout with all the energy he had left. He cut it short a bit, not wanting to cheat it, but truly feeling like his body couldn’t take any more. Stiles dragged his exhausted body to the locker room, showering under hot water as quickly as he could, feeling like he could barely stand on his feet any longer.

Once he was refreshed, he headed back out through the floor and up to the desk. Danny must’ve talked to Derek while he was showering, because the gruff man just moved his head to indicate that Stiles should follow, and escorted him to the tiny staff room down the hall behind the desk.

“I’ll let him know you’re back here. And Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“He knows, if you need to talk about it.”

“What, did Peter tell everyone he knew about the big reveal?”

“I know it might not seem like it, but he cares about you, and he was worried. Do with that what you will.”

It may have been the longest sentence Derek had ever spoken to him, and it left him a bit off-center, even when Danny entered the room. It was good to know Peter cared - reassuring in a way that Stiles hadn’t really known he’d needed reassurance.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Are you a werewolf, too?” Stiles couldn’t help from blurting out.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Danny’s face to split into a wide grin, and a burst of laughter to spill from his mouth. He frowned in response, not sure where he had apparently misstepped, but Danny was quick to fix it.

“No, no I’m not. My best friend from high school is, though. He’s a part of Peter’s pack. I’m assuming that’s what all this is about then - he told you?”

“He started to shift while he was fucking me last night.”

That seemed to catch Danny off-guard. “Woah, it’s not like Peter to lose control like that. And sure as shit a scary way to find out about him.”

Stiles nodded. “Exactly! And it’s kind of like everyone just expects me to be cool with it right away. And parts of it, I am. Frankly, I think I’m being pretty cool about the whole supernatural thing. It’s just - all the lying, and the secrecy.”

“Why, specifically, though? I know they’ve explained to you the dangers, and not telling you to keep you safe, and so forth. While I get having some doubts about that, they do mean it. But it’s not just that for you, is it? Something else is bothering you.”

“Do you remember when I first came in here to sign up?”

The change in topic was abrupt, but it didn’t seem to throw Danny off. “Yeah, I do. I figured you were just new in town.”

Stiles laughed. “My father is the sheriff over in Beacon Hills - I’ve always been pretty local. But I’d just made a huge change - moved out on my own in the city. After leaving my long-term partner, David, who lied to me all the time, and cheated on me, and generally didn’t respect me as an adult who could make his own informed decisions.”

“Well, shit. That would explain it, then.”

“I know the situations are different - really, I do. But the pain is still just a bit fresh to find out this earth-shattering news and to know that my closest friends and family have been hiding it from me for years.”

Danny gave him a mild smile. “Knowing the situations are different and convincing yourself it’s still okay to trust all of them when you know you can’t trust David anymore is still hard, though, isn’t it?”

Stiles sighed in relief. Danny, at least, really understood where he was coming from. “Exactly. And things are so new with Peter, too. It’s already fragile and this really hasn’t helped.”

“It might be new, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not both invested.”

And loathe as he might’ve been to admit it, Stiles knew Danny was right. By reacting so strongly, he’d probably hurt Peter too, not even thinking about it. Peter had even wanted more - a committed relationship that Stiles had said he wasn’t ready for. This was probably devastating for him, as evidenced by him reaching out to all of Stiles’ friends and his own family to make sure they were looking out for him and supporting him even when he’d asked for space.

“I owe him an apology too, don’t I?” he finally responded to Danny, looking up from where he’d been staring at his folded hands resting on the table.

Danny nodded. “Probably. But this isn’t the end of the world, Stiles. I know it feels huge and crazy right now, and it is. I also know it isn’t always helpful to hear, but I’m going to say it anyway: you’re going to be okay.”

“I think I will be. Thanks, Danny.” Stiles gave him a genuine smile, appreciative of the outside perspective he’d been able to provide.

“Any time, man. Here - take my number, just as a friends thing. If you need a friend and everyone else is too close to it, just let me know.”

“Thanks again.”

Stiles followed Danny out of the break room after copying his number down in his phone. It was later than he thought it’d be when he looked at his phone, so he bade Danny and Derek both a goodbye and started the walk home.

It took a bit longer than usual due to how sore he was, so it was late in the afternoon by the time he got back. For just a moment, he was incredibly relieved to see Peter heading in from the parking garage. He’d been worried it would be really difficult to approach him to talk about things, but it looked like he’d have a chance handed to him.

At least, that’s what he thought until he saw a gorgeous blonde woman walk quickly to catch up to Peter, having followed him from his car. She casually leaned in to his side, Peter’s arm wrapping around her torso, and Stiles thought he might be sick.

No one had mentioned Peter being in a relationship - none of the people who knew him even better than Stiles, knew that he was an alpha werewolf - so the rational part of his mind tried to convince him that something else entirely was going on, but his anxiety wasn’t having it. Having just been cheated on himself, the mere thought of being “the other woman” flipped his stomach. 

He waited to continue closer to the building until the pair of them had already disappeared inside, opting to take the elevator for once instead of the stairs with how sore he still was. It felt like all the progress he’d made coming to terms with everything over the day had been ripped from him, and once he made it back to his apartment, he laid on his back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, unmoving, and finally, unthinking.

He was maxed out - there was no energy or will left for him to try to process anything new. It was unlikely that Peter had already moved on, or that he’d already been in a relationship when he’d spoken to Stiles, but it wasn’t impossible, and that was enough for his mind to run wild with terrible possibilities. Adding werewolves into the mix didn’t help him sort his thoughts out either.

Stiles was still lost, even after he’d worked hard to sort himself out. The thought of that alone - of not being at the place he thought he was - was the final straw, and he flipped over to bury his face in a throw pillow on the couch as he started to cry all over again.


	7. Everybody Wants You (But I Don’t Like a Gold Rush)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Gold Rush" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Another big thank you for all the feedback! You guys are constantly giving me encouragement to keep writing. I know that this is late - but things have been crazy at work, and I was in a car accident this week, so I'm giving myself a break over being a day late (please also have mercy on me, thanks)!
> 
> (P.S. - we're halfway there!)

Over the next week, Stiles talked to Scott and his father several more times, trying to make them understand why he was so hurt. It didn’t seem like he was getting through to them at all - the same excuses of, “We were trying to keep you safe!,” and in his father’s case, “It wasn’t my secret to share!” - growing old. At the end of the day, they didn’t trust him. They left him out of this huge part of their lives entirely on purpose. 

Someday, could that all be forgivable? Of course - it was his _dad_ , and his best friend who was practically a brother. It would have to start with them actually acknowledging that they were wrong, though. Lydia, bless her heart, had actually offered an apology. She understood where he was coming from better than the others, too, not having been informed until she had already been dating Cora for months. She let him know she’d brought it up with both Scott and his father before, only to be met with the same messages he was receiving now.

At least that relationship wasn’t going to suffer. Stiles was glad for it, able to continue being productive at work, and even making some moves on his gallery project. It wouldn’t be too terribly long before he’d be ready to share the idea with Lydia, who he knew would be excited to hear about it.

And then there was Peter - Peter who was giving Stiles the space and time he’d asked for, thankfully. If they passed each other, Peter would wave or nod hello, but that would be it. He’d even been conspicuously absent from the gym if Stiles was there at the same time, working out with Danny primarily when he could and alone when he couldn’t. Even Derek was being respectful about his space, which wasn’t surprising given the man’s already reserved nature, but still appreciated.

As time had passed, though, Stiles had found his minimal ire at Peter fading. Sure, it had been a big shock, but it really wasn’t his fault that the other people in Stiles’ life had kept this secret from him. Peter had only known him for a few weeks into months, and he hadn’t been quite ready to tell him, but that was understandable. 

Unfortunately, the bigger blocker Stiles had to talking to Peter again was more the exceptionally attractive people he kept seeing around the man. The one time he’d gotten to the gym to find Peter already there, he’d been working out with a tall blonde with eyes like bambi, the pair exchanging casual touches that indicated they had _some_ sort of relationship, even if they weren’t together. The female blonde had made a few reappearances at Peter’s place, occasionally joined by a tall black man. They were all incredibly good-looking, and seemed to be close with each other and with Peter.

This ugly, irrationally jealous, anxiety-fueled part of Stiles reared its head. It felt like a betrayal somehow, though he knew it wasn’t. There was still something that clutched in his gut at the idea of Peter with anyone else. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even in a relationship with the man, he knew he had no right to feel that way.

Another part of him taunted him for that simple thought - of course he wasn’t in a relationship with Peter, he’d asked not to be. And it was clear that it had been a mistake. Stiles wanted Peter - missed him in a visceral way in their time apart. 

He decided to start small, sending the man a simple text that said, _Gym tonight, if you’re free?_

**I’d like that. I should be home at my usual time.**

_Sounds good, we can leave around 5:30? Maybe get dinner after?_

Peter’s reply was instantaneous. **Absolutely. Thank you, Stiles.**

Stiles didn’t know what exactly Peter was thanking him for - the normalcy, the contact, the chance to make things right - but he felt hope blossom in his chest. Maybe things between them could really be okay. Stiles could work things out with Peter faster than he’d be able to with Scott or his dad, but maybe it would help, too. He didn’t know how, just yet, but talking to Peter would at least help make things clearer.

The day seemed to simultaneously drag on and fly by, and Stiles found himself leaving the studio earlier than he normally would and heading home. It seemed Peter had a similar idea, the older man pulling into the parking lot as Stiles was leaving his car. He made the split second decision to stand by the door and wait, Peter smiling when he caught sight of him.

“Hi, Stiles. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Peter,” Stiles replied, and Peter’s smile grew. “I just need to get changed and pack my bag, then we could leave for the gym a bit early if it works for you.”

Peter nodded, holding the door open for Stiles as they made their way toward the stairwell inside their building. “Not a problem at all; I just need to do the same. Did you have a good day at work?”

“Not as productive as it could’ve been, but things have been alright there this week, at least. How about you?”

Peter seemed to take Stiles’ off-hand comment about things not being great outside of work that week in stride, not mentioning it before replying, “Good, thank you. Always busy, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing sometimes.”

Stiles nodded. “I get that.”

As they reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hallway, he left Peter with the parting words, “I’ll just come knock when I’m ready to leave, then?”

“I’ll be here,” came the response, and Stiles continued the rest of the way down the hall to his own apartment.

He found himself to be more nervous than he thought he’d be - things were heading in a good direction, and Peter seemed hopeful, but that part of him that was jealous and anxious about his looks and his relationship with Peter overall was being disgustingly loud at the moment. Still, he managed to shake it off and get ready for the night, changing his clothes and packing his bag efficiently.

Peter wanted him - he’d admitted to it, negotiated with him, asked for them to be in a relationship. He just had to keep reminding himself of that. Peter was willing to risk telling him about a huge secret, and the involvement of the people he knew in it, just to preserve Stiles’ trust, and it was all because he found him deserving in some way. 

Armed with that knowledge, he grabbed his bag and water bottle, and headed out the door. Whatever may come, it wasn’t going to come until he talked to Peter. And it was on him to establish their terms for talking, since Peter had been respecting his request for space. Stiles figured if they could get through the walk to the gym and a normal workout, he’d be comfortable and confident enough to talk about the rest of what they needed to over dinner.

All of that running through his mind, he knocked on Peter’s door, only to have the man open it almost instantaneously. Right - he’d always done that. Stiles had previously thought it was a superpower - and it turned out he wasn’t as wrong as he could’ve been. The thought made him let out a little chuckle, and he waved away Peter’s curious expression.

“Just something I’d been thinking about for a while that makes more sense - now.”

Peter nodded in understanding, offering no further comments on the subject. “Shall we, then?” He asked, closing his door behind him and heading toward the stairwell. Stiles simply followed in answer.

The walk to The Loft was mostly quiet. Peter asked him about his routine, what he’d done at the gym since they’d been apart, but without bringing up the reason he didn’t know. It was as if he’d been away sick, or on vacation, and they were just catching up on what they’d missed. Peter made it seem simple, easy, and Stiles was grateful for it.

Derek raised a particularly expressive eyebrow at the pair of them walking in together, but said nothing. Peter aimed a level look at his nephew, and Stiles couldn’t help but notice how similar they actually were. Of course he had the knowledge that they were related, but even still, it’d be hard to miss when looking at them side by side.

When no one had exchanged words for a period of time that felt awkward to Stiles, he piped up, “Good to see you, Derek! We’re gonna go...work out, now.” 

He gave a little parting wave and unconsciously grabbed Peter’s hand in his own, leading the older man away and back into the locker room to stow their belongings before heading back into the main part of the gym. He flashed a mildly embarrassed smile at Peter and dropped his hand, turning to stow his bag in a locker. He waited while Peter did the same, then led the way back out to the gym. 

As a repeat of their first time, Stiles went to stretch and run for a bit while Peter got started on his insane weightlifting routine. Though, now knowing he was a werewolf, it was a little less impressive. Peter was still ridiculously jacked, though, and it was clear that he worked for it. It also meant he was lifting weights with a werewolf and _keeping up_ , so he gave himself a mental pat on the back for that as he wandered over to the free weights to meet up with Peter and get into the meat of their routine.

Peter pushed him as hard as always, Stiles especially feeling the burn since he hadn’t gone to such an extreme since the last time he’d exercised with Peter. It felt good, and it was nice to be back in routine as well.

After toweling off and getting redressed, they took their leave, waving goodbye to Derek who returned it with a simple grunt. The pair of them stopped at a Greek restaurant on the way back, agreeing it was a good choice for dinner.

“Do you want to stay and eat in? Or would you rather take it back to the complex?” Peter asked, looking Stiles directly in the eye as if to ensure he understood the gravity of the question.

“It’s probably better if we take it back. We can talk about things more openly in private,” Stiles answered, looking around at how full the restaurant was, it being peak time for an evening meal.

Peter seemed satisfied with his answer, as if that had been the outcome he’d wanted, but that he hadn’t wanted to pressure Stiles one way or another. It was just another comfort and reassurance to Stiles that he was doing the right thing, trying to work things out with Peter. He clearly cared about making sure Stiles was comfortable and confident, which was a measure of respect that felt incredibly refreshing for Stiles to receive.

The kitchen turned their orders around quickly, despite the busy night, and they headed home, talking about nothing more serious than the food they were about to eat and workout routines. They stayed on safe topics - for now - and it worked. Their easy companionship hadn’t disappeared, and it was a relief for them both.

As they reached the top of the stairs in their building, Peter had one more question: “Your place or mine? I’m comfortable either way.”

Stiles thought about it for a minute before leading the way down the hall to his own apartment. He fumbled for a moment to get the door unlocked while balancing his food and gym bag as well, but got the door open and ushered Peter in, carelessly dropping his bag behind the door once it was shut.

The takeout containers went immediately to the table, and Peter put his bag down by the door next to Stlies’ own, albeit with more grace.

Stiles got water for them both after confirming it was okay with Peter, then finally took a seat across the table from the older man and dug into his dinner. They were quiet for a few moments, eating and hydrating after their intense workout, before Stiles had had enough and decided to kick things off.

“So, I think I might owe you an apology for shutting you out like that. It wasn’t your fault that the secret was kept from me, or that it came out like it did.”

“I appreciate that Stiles, but you don’t owe me an apology or anything else. I understand that it’s a lot to process, and frankly I’m just glad you didn’t tell me to go to hell and leave you alone forever.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Stiles started to say, Peter cutting him off almost immediately.

“I know - I know you wouldn’t. Still, you had every right to ask for space and time. I’m pleased that you felt comfortable reaching out to me to talk, though.”

“I missed you,” Stiles blurted out. “I missed spending time with you, talking to you, everything really.”

“I missed you too, Stiles.”

“Also, I think I was wrong before.”

That made Peter pause. “About what, exactly?”

“About not wanting to pursue a relationship with you. I’d like us to keep doing what we’ve been doing, don’t get me wrong, but I’d also like to date you. If you still want.”

Peter’s face broke out into an uncharacteristic grin that made Stiles feel warm through his entire body. “Stiles, I would be honored. I have to say, this isn’t exactly how I pictured this conversation going when you said you wanted to talk, but I’m certainly not mad about it.”

Stiles’ smile faded a bit. “Well, there are still some other things I want to talk about, too. But this was a big thing, and I wanted you to know my intentions before we talked about anything else.”

Peter sobered a bit as well, but retained the look of joy on his face. “Of course - I completely understand that. But I really appreciate that as your starting point.”

“Can you tell me more about you? About your family, and werewolves, and just everything? I think it would help.”

“Of course. I was born a werewolf, as you know, and both of my parents and my older sister were all werewolves. There were other family members - and other pack members - who were human. My mother was our alpha, and my sister Talia her successor. Talia’s daughter Laura will be her successor - we’re primarily matriarchal, and the alpha power traditionally passes to the eldest daughter of the current alpha. I became an alpha defending the pack from a rogue alpha - I was never meant to have the power - and it caused some difficulty in the family.”

“Werewolves are close, tactile creatures. Things like territory are important to us - so sharing the space with me was difficult for Talia, and for all of us in the end. That’s why when I finished school and started practicing law, it made sense to move away and give us both some space. Our packs are still close, though, especially with the family tie. We spend times like the full moon and other significant dates together in Beacon Hills.”

“Scott, Laura, Cora, Derek, and Lydia are all in Talia’s pack, as well as much of our extended family. I also have a few betas that I turned myself - Erica, Boyd, and Isaac. My pack is much smaller - between my career and there being other, more established packs, more than three betas would be terribly difficult to manage.”

“We can do a partial shift at any time, not just during a full moon, though it is harder to control at that time of the month, especially for newly turned wolves. Some alphas can also shift into a full wolf, like both Talia and myself. We - “

Stiles had to interject. “Hold up - you can turn into an actual _wolf_?”

Peter smiled patiently. “After a lot of practice and meditation, yes. It’s not something I do often.”

“Would you show me sometime?”

“Happily. Now that you’re in the know, you’d also be welcome to spend full moons with us. As a guest, or, well,” Peter blushed, “as a part of my pack.”

“I’m a part of your pack?”

“It’s not as much that you already are as much as it is that the potential is there. You mean a lot to me, Stiles, and yes, I think of you as part of my pack. But I completely understand if that’s too much for you right now and you’d rather take some time to think about it.”

Stiles blinked owlishly. “I’m more trying to wrap my head around being part of a werewolf pack when I only found out werewolves were real a week ago, but I’ll get back to you on that one.”

When Peter didn’t immediately pick the conversation back up, Stiles reached across the empty takeout containers on the table and took his hand. “Why don’t we move over to the couch?”

Not releasing his hand, Stiles stood, and Peter did as well. The pair of them moved into Stiles’ living room, sitting close to each other on the cozy couch. “There’s more I have to tell you. But it can be - overwhelming. I don’t want to scare you away.”

Stiles shook his head. “I’m here, Peter, and I’m not going anywhere. I won’t lie; it’s a lot to take in. But we need to work through it before we can move forward. I’ve told you my intentions, and you know that it’s true. You know I want to work this out and be with you. I don’t expect you to tell me everything, either. But if there’s more you think I should know, then we need to talk that out.”

Peter nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry - the thought of truly losing you is rather painful. You know some of the story of how I know your father - that Allison’s family launched an attack on our pack. The Argents aren’t the only werewolf hunters, though, nor are they the only type of threat to a pack. I understand why you were upset that you weren’t told, and you had every right to be.”

“It might help to know just how that nastiness started, though. It started with Derek - falling in love with a human who we thought didn’t know. Allison’s aunt, Kate, pretended to reciprocate Derek’s feelings in order to get close to the pack. She very nearly killed us all. While we all know you aren’t Kate, and shouldn’t be blamed for her actions, we’re particularly wary of bringing anyone into the fold. Both because of the danger they could represent, but moreso the danger that it could bring to them.”

Stiles interrupted again. “When were you going to tell me, though? Were you just going to let us continue as we were without ever telling me?”

Peter looked horrified. “Of course not! After we’d been together for some time, after I knew you better, I would’ve told you. Just like how Lydia found out after being with Cora. Things are a bit different with the pair of them - since Cora is a beta, her partner wouldn’t be as much of a target as the partner of an alpha would be.”

“You’re saying hunters would attack me to hurt you.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And it ties into the other thing I need to tell you about - I told you wolves are tactile, that our senses are important to us. All of that is true, and it’s true to an even stronger degree with someone who has the potential to be our mate.”

“Like a soulmate? You’re telling me soulmates are real - and what, we’re soulmates? Because I’ve gotta say that’s cr-”

Stiles was cut off by Peter gently placing a finger over his lips, an amused smile on his lips. “No, not soulmates. It’s more about compatibility. There’s a potentiality, a bond that exists between a werewolf and someone who can be their mate.”

“Is that like the electricity I felt when you first touched me?” Stiles blurted out, remembering how strange he’d found the interaction at the time.

“Exactly. It doesn’t make us soulmates or destined for each other - it just means that there’s compatibility between us. Not that we didn’t already know that part,” Peter’s smiled curved up into a bit of a smirk.

“But us having that connection could put me in danger, if I knew. If I was involved. So that’s why you wanted to wait. I can understand that. I can even understand better why my dad and Scott kept it a secret, though I don’t know that I’m quite ready to forgive them.”

Peter caressed the side of his face. “And there’s no rush. But you understand, now, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Me too, to be honest. I feel like my mind has been running a million miles an hour for the last week. I haven’t been able to slow it down no matter what.”

Peter looked at him, considering. “If you think you’re ready, I could help you with that. It doesn’t have to be sexual - I’m sure that’s still a bit of a sore subject - but I can take you down and support you as little, if that’s what you need right now. And I don’t want to speak for you, but it seems like something you could use.”

Stiles found himself nodding reactively, barely thinking about it before agreeing. “Please, Peter? I’ll probably have a million more questions eventually. But right now I think I just need a break. Will you give me that, Daddy?”

The smile that broke out across the older man’s face at the title could rival the brightness of the sun. “It would be my pleasure, sweetheart. Why don’t you go take a shower while I clean up from dinner, and I’ll leave pajamas for you to change into on the sink? Then I’ll help you out of your head.”

Stiles smacked a wet kiss on Peter’s cheek, briefly flinging his arms around his neck in a hug, before jumping up and darting off to the bathroom, already feeling a bit lighter. Distantly, he could hear Peter cleaning up the containers and wiping off the table, but he let all of those thoughts go. For now, it wasn’t his responsibility to think about it. All he had to do was shower and put on the pajamas Peter would leave out for him.

He started the water, waiting for it to get warm, before stepping in and cleaning himself efficiently. A bath would’ve been nice too - maybe with bubbles or a ducky - but Peter had asked him to take a shower, so that’s what he would do. 

As Stiles was washing his hair, he heard the door open for a moment before closing again almost immediately. At the thought that Peter was ready for him, he rushed through rinsing out the shampoo and shut the shower off as quick as he could. He dried off, leaving his hair a spiky mess, and smiled as he donned the pajamas with a cartoon spaceship on the shirt and planets on the pants. This was one of his favorite sets, and he was infinitely glad he’d let Peter know during their negotiations where he kept everything he liked when he was little. 

“Daddy, I’m done!” he called as he stepped out of the steamy bathroom, noting that his dirty clothes had been taken and likely placed in the hamper already. He didn’t have to worry about anything like that, and it was a relief. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the perfect little headspace.

Peter poked his head out from around the corner. “Wait there for one more minute until I come get you. Your surprise is almost ready.”

Stiles immediately wanted to ask what the surprise was, but he knew Peter wouldn’t tell him, so instead he bounced back and forth between his feet as he waited as patiently as he could. He was getting ready to just walk out there when Peter _finally_ came to get him, taking his hand and leading him out to the living room where there was - was that a _blanket fort?_

“You made this for me?” Stiles asked, eyes wide as he looked up at Peter.

“I did. Do you want to see what’s inside?”

“Yes please!” Without waiting any longer, Stiles pulled the sheet to the side at the entrance, and gasped as he saw the pile of cushions and blankets, as well as one of his favorite books, his bear, and a puzzle inside the fort that was light with tiny electric candles. 

He turned around and threw his arms around Peter, who chuckled into his shoulder as he held him close. “Do you like it then, baby?”

“It’s perfect, Daddy! Thank you so, so, so much!”

“You’re welcome, Stiles. Why don’t we put your puzzle together first, and then we can read a story and snuggle in the blankets?”

It was exactly what Stiles wanted, and he made sure Peter knew. They spent longer than necessary putting together the puzzle, a simple garden scene. The focused activity, along with his proximity to Peter, allowed Stiles to melt into the comfort he was feeling. 

The feeling only got better as Peter cuddled him in the pile of blankets, his bear tucked in the crook of his arm while he listened to the familiar words of the story Peter had chosen. He felt himself drifting, even though he knew it couldn’t have been too terribly late.

Still, his eyes were shut before the end of the story, and he rested comfortably until Peter roused him gently.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you into bed,” Peter urged, not wanting Stiles to end up uncomfortable.

“Mmm, carry me, Daddy?” he replied sleepily, opening his eyes just enough to plead with Peter with his gaze as well as his words.

Peter gave an exaggerated sigh before gathering Stiles up in the blankets, bear still clutched in his hands, and exiting the fort. It was exhilarating for Stiles to be carried with such ease - making him feel so small compared to Peter, even though they were similar in size.

Peter deposited him on the bed with a little bounce, making Stiles giggle even as Peter started to rearrange the blankets and covers around him. Instead of immediately joining him in bed, though, Peter started to step away, and it caused an instant reaction in Stiles.

Stiles clutched at Peter, the first hint of his anxiety reappearing since he’d initially gone to shower. “Please don’t leave, Daddy,” he whimpered, unable to stop his bottom lip from wobbling as he thought about Peter leaving him alone in the bed that felt unbearably big at the moment.

“Shh, little one. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going to be a minute getting ready for bed.” True to his word, Peter was only missing from the bed for a moment, pulling Stiles back into his arms as soon as he could. It seemed like he’d just stripped down a layer, an undershirt and boxers remaining for him to sleep in.

Stiles didn’t let himself worry any more, burrowing into Peter’s broad chest, and letting everything else fall away. Things weren’t fixed entirely, they weren’t perfect, but this moment with Peter was, and he wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.


	8. Eyes Full of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from "Cowboy Like Me" by Taylor Swift on _evermore_.
> 
> Much closer to being on time this week! Apologies again for last week's delay. I'm going to be mad at myself when my alarm goes off in like five hours for work, but it was worth it to get this chapter done and posted. Thank you as always!  
> 💗

Stiles wiggled a bit as he started to wake up, almost uncomfortably warm. It took him a minute to come back to himself, and realize that he felt that way because Peter was practically glued to his back, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, and face buried in his neck. He relaxed back into the touch, granting himself a moment to enjoy the comfort that came with being in bed with a lover.

The previous night had been perfect. He didn’t want sex, and Peter didn’t push for it. They were just able to be close and comfortable, and Stiles felt relaxed where he had been so tense for so long. Obviously he knew one good night didn’t cancel out the stress he’d been feeling, but he felt more settled with himself, and was glad to know that he was still going to be able to pursue a real relationship with Peter.

He shifted again, turning to face Peter who blinked awake at the movement in such close proximity. It took a moment, but a sleepy smile spread across the older man’s face as he took in the sight of Stiles in front of him. 

“Good morning,” Stiles spoke first, voice a bit raspy still with sleep.

“Mmm, good morning to you, sweetheart,” Peter responded, leaning forward to kiss Stiles’ forehead.

Stiles blushed as he fought his embarrassment down a bit. “Thank you for last night Peter. It was - it was really perfect, for me. It was exactly what I needed.”

“Well, then I’m glad it was perfect for both of us, because I enjoyed myself too. I’m happy to be that for you, Stiles. It’s good for us both, I think.”

“I agree,” Stiles said, giving Peter another sunny smile before burrowing in closer to the older man, tucking his face in tight against Peter’s broad chest. “I can make us breakfast in a bit, but I’m not ready to get up yet.”

“We can stay like this as long as you’d like, Stiles. I don’t have any obligations until later this afternoon, when I’m expected at my sister’s.”

“Special werewolf stuff?”

He felt Peter’s chuckle more than he heard it. “Nothing quite that exciting, I’m afraid. Just a normal Sunday family dinner. Maybe someday you could come with me - not today of course, it’s too soon. But it might be a good idea for you to meet the packs.”

“Well, it’s definitely too soon. But that sounds nice - for sometime in the future. On the topic of food, though, I think I’m ready to get up. Do you like french toast?”

“Sounds excellent to me, sweetheart.”

They separated and rose, alternating turns in the bathroom while Stiles also shuffled out to the kitchen and started the coffee-maker, pulling out the eggs, bread, milk, butter, cinnamon, and vanilla as well. The recipe was simple, and it was easy enough to pull together even in his morning haze.

It wasn’t long before he and Peter were settled at the table, fluffy french toast and fresh coffee ready for breakfast. As they ate in companionable silence, though, Stiles’ thoughts started to wander. And he realized that he’d made a mistake, too, and it was probably time to apologize for it. At least, if he wanted them to be able to move forward easily.

“So, since I was so upset over secrets, I figure there’s probably something I should tell you, too. I mean, I don’t have like, superpowers or anything, but it’s still something I keep to myself. I’m Mischief, Peter.”

Peter stared at him for a long moment, food temporarily forgotten. “You don’t just mean that you’re trouble, do you? You mean - you’re the famous painter? That Mischief?”

Stiles ducked his head, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah? That’s me - I didn’t want to assume you’d know who I was, but it seems like you’ve heard of me.”

“Heard of you? Sweetheart, you just finished a commission for our office. The cityline? It’s in the office I work in now. I’m sure you get requests like that all the time, but it’s special for us, and I have to say you managed to surprise me with how good it was, even though I knew you were talented.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that it’s being appreciated in a good home. I’m going to, uh, ignore the rest of that and just say thanks for the flattery, because frankly I’m not great at taking compliments.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed, and it’s something you’ll have to work on because there is a lot to compliment and praise about you, Stiles. In any case, thank you for trusting me with this. Is it safe to assume only a handful of people know?”

Stiles gave him a small, shy smile. “Yes, but since you know all but one or two of those people, and I’m hoping you never have to meet David, I wanted to make sure you became one of those people. The last thing I’d want to be is a hypocrite.”

“Even if you hadn’t told me, I don’t think that would make you a hypocrite, but I certainly appreciate the honesty. Was there anything else?”

“No, that’s the only thing I was hiding.” Peter beamed at him, picking up his fork and resuming eating his breakfast.

Stiles felt lighter, somehow, for having admitted it. Normally it wasn’t something that he liked to trust people with, but he felt like he could trust Peter with it. Even if things didn’t end up working out between them, Peter wouldn’t use it against him any way. Besides, if Peter was regularly talking to his dad, Scott, Allison, and Lydia, it was actually a miracle he hadn’t already known, though Stiles was also grateful to know they were all protecting his identity as he’d thought they were.

As they finished breakfast and cleaned up, Peter started to head toward the door. “I should really go back to my place and shower, take care of a few things before I need to leave this afternoon. Will you text me if you need anything? I know that things are still a bit fragile, and I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I appreciate the thought - but I’m not quite so delicate, Peter. As it stands I’ll probably text you anyway just because I’ll miss you.”

At that, Peter smiled and kissed Stiles with more intention, one hand wrapped around his neck to pull him close, and one hand wrapped around his waist to steady him. “I’ll miss you too, Stiles. Text me as much as you’d like.”

Stiles opens the door for Peter, partially to be polite and partially to watch the older man’s ass as he leaves, which Peter’s smirk tells him he knows, though he says nothing about it.

He spends the rest of his Sunday lazing about, and as promised, texting Peter. Without having to hide, he could talk about his projects and professional persona too. It felt like he would never run out of things to have conversations with Peter about. Luckily, he managed to actually remember to ask Peter out on a date for later in the week, too. If he was maybe hoping it would end with them in bed together, well then that was no one’s business but his and Peter’s. Still, he really did want to work on their romantic relationship, and he’d respect any boundaries they agreed upon.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t touch himself thinking about it, though, and he made sure that Peter knew it, too. The older man was predictively possessive about it, which made Stiles smile to himself. He also thoroughly promised Stiles that when he _wasn’t_ among his closest friends and family, he’d be doing the same.

Over the weeks that blended into months, the domestic pattern that Stiles and Peter fell into felt entirely natural. They were in each other’s space all the time - though they went out to the gym and on dates just as much as they stayed in. They shared meals, and beds, and comfort. 

And one memorable night, Stiles shared more than he thought he would’ve again. God, he’d been so broken over ending things with David, he hadn’t known that there was a future. But Peter had shown him. At first he’d planned to just say it and see how Peter reacted, but he didn’t find the words coming.

Then, as they were intimate, he held his tongue. Stiles didn’t want to be that guy who first admitted how he felt during sex. Peter noticed, though, thinking something was wrong.

He tenderly tucked a stray hair back into place, ignoring the rest of the mess that was Stiles’ sex hair. “Something you need to tell me, sweetheart? You seem awfully tense. Did I do something wrong, cross a line?”

Peter sounded so, so worried, and it snapped Stiles out of it with the desire to reassure him. “No, nothing like that. I would’ve told you, I promise.”

Peter relaxed at that, likely hearing and feeling the truth in Stiles’ words. “But there is something.”

“I love you, Peter. I didn’t want to make a big scene of it, but I think I’ve known it for a while now, and I wanted to tell you.”

Stiles doesn’t get much of a change to gauge Peter’s reaction on his face because Peter’s lips are pressed against his own in an instant. They lay like that for a while, Peter still above Stiles, just making out like teenagers experiencing the thrill of that kind of touch for the first time. Eventually, though, Peter pulled back with one more peck to Stiles’ swollen lips.

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m completely gone on you, sweetheart. I’m in love with you, Stiles, and I’m so incredibly lucky that you’ve given me this gift.”

“I think we’re both lucky. And I also think luck has nothing to do with it - I think we deserve this, Peter. It’s good, and we both deserve that.”

Peter was alight with pride at the confident words coming from Stiles, so pleased to know that conversations they’d had and resources he’d provided to Stiles had helped him heal. Proud to know that Stiles understood he deserved good things in life, and glad to be included in it as well. Not that he thought Stiles would ever fully understand just quite how good he was, and how much he gave to Peter without even knowing it.

“Will you come to Sunday dinner this week? Meet with both my pack and my sister’s? We can invite your father if it would help, since the two of you are on better terms. I know things are still a bit difficult with Scott and Allison by extension, but I promise you that you don’t have to talk to either of them if you don’t want to.”

“I’d be honored, Peter,” Stiles replied, “And while I appreciate it, I don’t need to be protected from Scott. Sure, we still have a fundamental issue with him not trusting me with the whole supernatural business, but we’re working on it. What is it you always like to say - we’re all works in progress?”

“That we are, darling. In any case, I’ll be glad to have you there. My betas have been itching to meet you, but I was able to hold them back.”

Peter winced a bit, throwing Stiles off since he didn’t display insecurity often. “It actually may be a bit much, between their questions and Talia’s inevitable interrogation as well.”

Stiles laughed. “Well, way to sell it, but I’m not going to be scared off quite so easily. Plus I’m pretty sure my father has _literally_ interrogated you before, so maybe we’ll be able to call it even at the end of the day.”

He’d been confident in admitting his love to Peter, and he was confident that he could handle whatever meeting the werewolf packs would entail. Of course, that confidence lasted the entire week, up until he and Peter were parking in the driveway of what looked like a _mansion_ in a remote part of Beacon Hills that Stiles had never been to.

“Your heartbeat is going crazy, Stiles. What can I do?”

Despite the genuine worry in Peter’s voice, Stiles couldn’t help himself from making a quip. “I thought we talked about you only using those superpowers of yours on me if I was in danger.”

“I am actually concerned about you, you know.” Peter rolled his eyes, used to Stiles’ antics but still wishing that his lover would tell him the truth about what was clearly bothering him.

“What if they don’t like me? I mean the rest of your pack. If Talia’s pack hates me there’s nothing I can do about it, but if your pack hates me then it could really fuck things up for us, you know?” Stiles lifted a hand to his mouth, biting at his nails, a terrible habit he’d never quite been able to break, despite several attempts and Peter’s general distaste for it.

Peter grabbed his wrist, taking Stiles’ hand in his own and holding it to his chest instead, over his heart. “I love you, Stiles, and so will they. It may not be right away - I can’t promise that - but it wasn’t that for us, either, was it?”

And Stiles doesn’t want to budge on this, because his fears are valid, thank you very much, but Peter is right, and he knows it. So he just groans, “I hate that you’re always right.”

“No, you really don’t,” Peter responded with a smirk as he parked the car, “And we’re here.”

The house is just as intimidating up close as it was from a distance, and that doesn’t do a damn thing to help calm Stiles’ nerves. Before they stepped on the porch to knock, Peter turned to him with a serious look on his face. “I really do think this will be okay. But if it’s too much - for any reason at all - safeword, and I’ll get us out of here.”

Stiles raised a cynical eyebrow, but Peter shut him down quickly. “I’m not kidding, Stiles. This is just the same as the bedroom - if you call red, I’ll respect it, and we’ll talk about it and make sure you’re okay and get you out of the situation. That’s that.”

Peter said it with such sincerity, Stiles knew that if he needed that out Peter would provide it. He had no reason at all not to believe his partner, so he nodded with confidence and turned to knock on the door himself.

As he had come to expect, it flew open almost as soon as he’d pulled his hand back. The blonde he’d originally been jealous of was standing there, bouncing on her heels. “Took you two long enough! Come on in!”

Stiles found himself being pulled inside by the girl he’d identified as Erica, staring back at Peter with wide eyes, who did nothing but shrug at him and smile as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Erica talked a mile a minute, definitely overwhelming Stiles, but also making him feel oddly comforted. If there was one thing he could relate to, it was rambling.

Finally, she came to a stop in what she called a dining room but Stiles considered more of a banquet hall. The table was _huge_ and seated a mixture of familiar faces and complete strangers. 

Erica makes introductions rapid-fire, but luckily Peter had primed Stiles enough that he could catalog who he had and hadn’t met. His focus was on Erica, Boyd, and Isaac for Peter’s pack, and he never let his eyes slip all the way off of the regal woman at the head of the table, who could be none other than,

“Alpha Talia Hale,” she said as Erica brought him up to her side, “and I have to say, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stilinski. You’ve been quite the center of attention of my brother and his pack for a while now.”

Stiles inclined his head, knowing it was the respectful thing to do, but looked her in the eye when he replied, “Good to meet you as well, Alpha Hale. Thank you for having me.”

She smiled a broad smile that reminded Stiles of Peter when he was genuinely happy, and said, “Please, call me Talia now that the formalities are out of the way. Is it alright if I call you Stiles?”

He responded to her smile in kind. “Please do.”

Their interaction was brief, but she had a dinner party to run, and Stiles still had about a dozen people to meet and greet. His dad hadn’t been able to make it, unfortunately, but Derek, Cora, Lydia, Allison, and Scott were all at least still familiar faces for him to interact with.

The meal itself was relatively uneventful, though Stiles quickly found himself losing his nerves and joining in conversation with different groups of people around the table. Erica remained boisterous, and it thrilled Stiles. He could already see the two of them becoming fast friends. Boyd was comparatively stoic, but had no shortage of friendly smiles to share and short remarks that had Stiles rolling with laughter. Isaac seemed to shy away from him a bit, but still made a good effort at getting to know him.

It wasn’t until he was helping clear plates that he realized he’d hardly talked to Peter the entire time, so engrossed in getting to know the pack members around him. He turned to go back to the dining room and saw Peter being pulled into a tight hug by Talia, and smiled at the pair of them. Things couldn’t have been easy between them, with his understanding of pack dynamics and territory and all, but Stiles was glad to see that Peter’s family stood behind him the same way that his did. That was one thing they shared, and just one more thing Stiles would be eternally grateful for.

In that moment, Stiles felt like his heart was so full. He wasn’t perfectly healed from everything he’d been through, but he was blessed to be where he was, surrounded by the people that he had.

Erica wrapped an arm loosely around his shoulders, a bag of candy in her other arm, and it broke Stiles out of his reverie. “Ready for a movie?”

Peter had turned to look at them at this point, and he had an eyebrow raised toward Stiles, indicating that it was his decision if they stayed or not. He hardly had to think about it.

“Hell yeah! If this is what a dinner in the dining room is like, I know I’ll be impressed by what you consider a movie night.”

Erica laughed and tugged at his arm again, Boyd and Isaac following the two of them with their arms also loaded with snacks, despite the huge meal they’d just had. Peter was grinning broadly as he continued his conversation with Talia, clearly pleased that they were getting along so well.

As he’d anticipated, the room that Erica led him to was more like a home movie theater than a regular living room, but he certainly wasn’t complaining about it. He chatted with Peter’s pack, and the others that had gathered, until Peter and Talia finally made their way into the room.

“Hey, scoot over,” Peter whined at him when he realized there wasn’t a space for him on the couch, Boyd and Erica to his right and Isaac on his left.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Where exactly do you think there is going to be space for yo-OOF?!” 

In one swift motion, Peter picked Stiles up from his spot on the couch like he weighed nothing and took the seat, settling Stiles half on top of himself and half on top of Isaac, who sighed heavily but smiled at Stiles and rearranged himself so they could both be comfortable.

“You could’ve just asked me to get up!” 

Peter smirked. “Now what would’ve been the fun in that?”

It made Stiles a bit uncomfortable to realize that most of the eyes in the room were on the pair of them, but nobody looked like they were going to make a complaint, so he ignored it as much as he could with his cheeks flaring red, and changed the subject. “So what are we watching?”

Derek grinned at him from where he was messing with a DVD player beneath the frankly massive television, and flashed a DVD case for the original _Star Wars_ trilogy at him.

Stiles looked up at Peter, who was resolutely looking up at the still-dark TV. “You told them it was my favorite, huh?”

Erica answered him instead, “Of course he did. It’s all he could talk about - _’Stiles loves Star Wars, it’s his favorite, we have to watch it.’_ He’s so gone on you it’s not even funny.”

“Erica,” Peter warned, eyes flashing red.

She didn’t seem to take it seriously. “Oh please, Peter. Like he doesn’t know how gone on him you are anyway. You’re certainly not hiding it from any of us.”

Peter let out a soft growl, but it was cut off by Stiles twisting up to kiss him briefly. “Thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

“Plus!,” Stiles grinned as he turned away from Peter, “Now _someone_ finally has to watch at least the first one!”

Scott groaned as Stiles focused on him. “I just don’t see the big deal! But yes, I’m going to watch them, are you happy now?”

“Well, I suppose it’s a good start to making up for keeping the whole werewolf thing a secret,” Stiles replied, startling a laugh out of some of the assorted pack members.

It was only half of a joke, and Scott seemed to know it, given the broad smile he sent Stiles’ way.

As Derek finally got everything set and dimmed the lights, Stiles leaned back into Peter’s embrace. Watching the familiar opening crawl light up the screen, he smiled back at Scott and truly, fully relaxed for the first time that night. It had seemed - loathe as he was to admit it - that Peter was right, and things truly couldn’t have gone any better.

Stiles didn’t know how it had become a normal thing in his life that he was seeking the approval of werewolves - two whole packs of them, at that - but he found that he felt happier and more connected to the world around him than he had in a long time. It was still early days, sure, but he could really see himself building a life with Peter. As long as they had moments like this, and the support of their friends and families, what could possibly ruin it?


End file.
